Head Strategist
by Yuna Yami Mouto
Summary: A sparkling discarded by its own people becomes one of the most powerful mechs in the universe, much to the shock of those who had thrown him away. Primus watches out for his children, no matter where they end up. And this discarded sparlking has the power to bring peace to a war that has been raging for eons. He only needs to survive. MegaOP at the end! :)
1. Chapter 1

**Head Strategist**

**Summary: A sparkling discarded by its own people becomes one of the most powerful mechs in the universe, much to the shock of those who had thrown him away. Primus watches out for his children, no matter where they end up. And this discarded sparlking has the power to bring peace to a war that has been raging for eons. He only needs to survive.**

"Is that him?" A mech asked, peering down at the clicking sparkling that had just crawled out of the Well of AllSparks. The little one was looking up at them with curious, huge blue optics that made him incredibly adorable, but that did not distract from the audio finials and the crest forming on his little forehelm, nor the glowing glyph on his audial receiver.

"Of course it's him, you glitch! He just crawled out of the Well when the AllSpark hasn't been in it for centuries! Who else would he be?" Another replied in an annoyed voice, staring down at the little one with distaste and no small amount of fear. The sparkling just stared up at him, making curious beeping noises before loosing interest and looking around, taking in his surroundings as any normal sparkling would. The light of his optics, though, was too bright for one so young, further unsettling the adult.

"I don't know. I just thought he'd be ... Well, _more_," the first one replied with a shrug, making his companion roll his optics at him.

"Glitch. Doesn't matter, either way. We need to get him back to our bosses or we don't get paid and I _don't _want to think about what they might do to us if Trion gets here and takes him. Let's just get the little scraplet and be done with it." And without further ado, the grumpy one leaned down to take the sparkling, startling the little one into angry and scared beeps and trying to scramble away on unsteady, little pedes from the reaching servos, making upset and displeased noises when the servos continued reaching despite his noise. The reaching mech snorted and finally caught a small servo, starting to pull when light burst out of the well, knocking him back several mechanometers, his companion stumbling back a few pedesteps as well. The little one remained perfectly balanced and unafraid in the wake of the adults' fear, clicking disapprovingly at them as the ground around the Well rumbled.

_~Do not touch this spark, for you are unworthy to bask in its light,~_ A strut-shaking voice thundered from the Well, making the two mech's plating quiver in fear while the sparkling made happy cooing noises at it, peering back down into the Well towards its source. If they needed any more proof that this was who they were supposed to get, then they got it as _this_ was enough. The sparkling was haloed in the bright light and didn't need to avert his gaze like the adults needed lest their optics go blind. It just chirped in pleasure of the soothing warmth the light provided, obviously familiar with it and _that_ had the two doubting whether the credits were worth it.

"What should we do?" The first one asked panickingly of his sprawled companion, who was still shaking with fear and from the impact of the invisible force that had knocked him down, stunned by the situation. "This wasn't in the job description!" He added hysterically. It was supposed to be wait for a sparkling to crawl out of the Well, snatch it up and bring it to their client while avoiding Alpha Trion like the Cybonic Plague. No one ever said anything about vengeful gods!

The two cowered in their Creator's wrath until the light suddenly started dying down, receding back into the Well with a last (desperate) warning rumble that shook all of Iacon, not fifteen kliks away. The sparkling was now apparently deep in recharge at the edge of the Well, tired of its journey from the center of the planet to its surface and the short ordeal that the two mechs had put him through. Said two mechs exchanged a glance, silently debating whether they were afraid more of a dormant god or their employers and whether the credits were worth eternal damnation, if such a thing really existed, before shrugging and taking the sparkling. Just to be sure there was no more funny business, they put the little one into forced stasis and held a blaster to its helm when the Well started lighting up again. The rumbling didn't stop but it didn't escalate or turn physical again, either, so the two exchanged grins at having a god by his bearings because they held a sparkling at gun point. They may have signed their own Pit tickets with this move, but you only live once. They slowly backed away from the well before transforming and making a break for it. They were going to demand extra credits from their employers for the trouble they'd gone through just to get the newspark.

Their employers weren't the happiest to hear about it and knew that they didn't have much time. They had _all_ felt the quaking of the metal surface and they had no doubt that the oldest of them all knew how to interpret its meaning. The Supreme Commander didn't exactly feel comfortable with downright killing a sparkling in a time when there were none that hadn't been harvested from the AllSpark centuries earlier, before they had jettisoned it into space, but this wasn't one of them and would only present a threat to their government and society as it now was. Sparkling or not, it had to be taken care of before it could grow up to threaten the system they lived under now. He refused to end its young life by his own servo, so he put the unsuspecting little one into a long distance escape pod and went by the way of the AllSpark, jettisoning it through a random space bridge with no additional sustenance to keep it alive should it break out of stasis on its own somehow. He watched it pass through the blue, sparkling vortex of the space bridge when a commotion over the comms and in the corner of his optic caught his attention.

The mech may have been ancient even by their specie's standards, but Alpha Trion was also not of their build and was actually quite strong for his slender built. He was still taller than most civilianframes and he had countless wars and battles behind him to easily get past the guards that were meant to stop him. The old mech was marching right towards him when the big civilianframe turned to face him. The Archivist's expression was beyond stormy as he approached. And yet the Supreme Commander didn't flinch or back down, no matter how his spark fluttered in unease and fear as those too old optics flashed in a way he had never seen before on _any_ mech. He held his ground as the red, gray and purple mech shoved a digit under his nasal plate, EM field lashing out in overwhelming rage, panic and urgency.

"Where _is_ he, Unicron take you!? Where is my reborn brother!?"

The other mech kept a calm facade, as always, as he stared into the fuming mech's optics, showing no real reaction. "I don't know what you are talking about, Councilor Alpha Trion-"

"Don't _lie_ to me, you little pit spawned scraplet!" Alpha Trion thundered, cutting him off, his EM field almost becoming a physical force that had the younger bot nearly wincing. Only nearly. He still managed to remain composed. "I _know_ he has returned! I've been _waiting_ for this solar cycle for millions of _vorns_! I _felt_ Primus reaching out to me, telling me that he's _in danger_ of mecha wearing Prima's red face! So I will not ask again. Where. Is. My. Brother?"

The Commander stared him down, optics devoid of emotion, not planning on giving a response when one of the Space Bridge Nexus operators, oblivious to the tension and danger mounting around the two tall, old bots, came over to report. "Sir, the pod has made it safely through to the random coordinates and we've already erased them, as per your instructions. The space bridge has been shut down." He gave a salute, waiting for further orders, not seeing or ignoring the rising horror on Trion's faceplates as he realized what had happened and what he had been too late to stop.

"Good work, soldier. That is all," the more armored of the two told the operator and he gave another brisk salute before fleeing the scene as Alpha Trion's EM field extended and started lashing out almost like physical blows. The Commander just watched him dispassionately. "I'm afraid that I don't know where this brother of yours is, Councilor Alpha Trion. Is that all?"

"What have you _done_?" The horrified ancient mech asked in a whisper before his optics flashed dangerously and he looked ready to kill the other.

"I only did what was necessary. We cannot afford political dissidents at the moment, not when this peace with the Decepticons is already so precarious. The Galactic Council is sick of us, Councilor Alpha Trion, as you well know. The only reason we haven't plunged back into war with the Decepticons up to now is because we remain a strong, cohesive force of unity. Your '_brother_'," the word was almost spat out like poisoned energon, weighting heavily in disgust. Trion's horror was turning back into rage faster than any mech's should be able to. "Would only cause uprisings and the Decepticons would use this to destroy the Autobot way of life. This was to protect us all-"

"Do not shove that propaganda scrap down my intake, _Magnus_," the older mech snarled like a caged beast, baring fangs he did not possess unlike some of his brothers and he sorely regretted that fact now. "I am not one of your naive young drones in the making. I know what is really going on. You cannot lie to me. I am well aware of how you really are. Of _who_ you really are. And you may have just doomed all of Cybertron, because if that sparkling dies, it means extinction for us all."

"And I assure you that no such thing will happen, Councilor Alpha Trion. We are stronger than anything the Decepticons can throw at us-"

Alpha Trion gave a frustrated scream, so very different from the usually so well composed elder, giving the Magnus one last glare before whirling around on his pedes and snarling back at the blue and white mech with the Magnus Hammer as he stalked back the way he came. "You cannot be rid of him so easily, _Ultra Magnus_. Primus always takes care of his Creations, wherever they might end up. And, one day, you will sorely regret _ever_ laying a servo on my brother when he burns your world to the ground. _That_," he glanced over his shoulder pauldron with one burning optic. "Is your only warning."

And Ultra Magnus, Supreme Commander of the Autobots, just watched him go as dispassionately as ever, no regret in his processor or spark for sending a sparkling to its death.

Anything's fair in love and war, after all.

00000

A big, gray mech with blazing red optics grunted as he shoved a quickly graying deactivated frame of one of his comrades off of him, sitting up with an effort that disgusted him as he surveyed his surroundings. "Report," he ordered and his voice carried across the crashed vessel, easily reaching the audials of all of his remaining officers.

"Relatively unharmed, Lord Megatron," a horned purple mech in the co-pilot's seat replied first, rubbing at an aching helm as he turned to look at the seat to his left. "I'm afraid I can't say the same for Trencher. He's offline, my Lord."

"So is Tripline," replied a bulky femme as she appeared in Megatron's line of sight, peering down at him with narrowed red optics. "Wrencher's online, but judging by his wound, he won't stay that way very long, even with medical intervention. Skystorm was offlining when I woke up. I ended her misery quickly and I think we should do the same for Tripline."

"So Trencher, Wrencher, Tripline, Skystorm and Steeljaw are out. What about Blackout, Strika?"

"Online and unharmed, my Lord, but he's currently in stasis," Strika replied and stepped out of the way so her leader could get back up to his pedes. He only had some scratches and dents and one crack on his armor that didn't endanger its integrity nor would it affect his transformation sequence. He was pleased with how he had fared against the impact that had so easily claimed the lives of half of his team. "We won't be able to carry him, so we either leave him behind or wait for him to online."

Megatron inspected the state of his most feared and most competent general before turning to see Blackout, a truly hulking mech the likes of which intimidated almost everyone who saw him, even if he was rather soft-spoken for a Decepticon. He was relatively unharmed, his thick armor easily protecting him and he'll no doubt be up and about within half a joor to a joor at most. "We can afford to wait a while longer, for now. If we discover a threat, we take enough energon to last us for the return trip and leave him. He either makes it back on his own or survives on his own, if he can. We cannot afford to loose all of us." His General of Destruction and one of his most feared and by far eldest Lieutenant nodded, not even casting a glance at their teammate. Decepticons valued efficiency, practicality, courage and strength above all else. Well, loyalty, too, but the Cause came first and the Cause could not afford to loose its Emperor and General of Destruction both. Just one of them would be a blow devastating enough to set them back several vorns if they were to offline. "Cyclonus, any idea of what might have caused the crash?"

"The instruments malfunctioned, my Lord, cutting off our engines completely and leaving us to nosedive into the planet. I think it's Aarcha 7, unless we somehow changed course and crashed on Archa 8. It could not have been sabotage, I checked the ship over myself right before take off. Everything was running at 100% functionality." The purple mech explained, though he sounded a bit perplexed at his own report. "It was all so sudden ... Maybe the asteroid field emits some sort of energy signature that affected the ship but not us?"

"Wouldn't be the first time an organic planet fragged up someone's equipment," Strika snarled in disgust, glaring around the ship. "We need to check for oil and fuel leaks unless we want to be blown to scrap."

"We also need to scout out our immediate surroundings to determine whether we can wait for Blackout or not," Megatron hummed, taking out his swords as he moved towards the aft end of the ship. "Strika, you have enough firepower and thick enough an armor to hold the ship. Do whatever checks you want and pack up enough energon for us if we must make a hasty escape. Try to wake Blackout up. Cyclonus, you're with me." The only femme nodded and already started packing them energon, the most important part of the orders given to her, for they needed fuel if they were going to fly all the way back to the Nemesis. The gray warframe then turned to the horned mech. "We're going out on patrol."

Cyclonus only nodded and took out his own great sword as the two walked cautiously out of the all but destroyed hull of their ship. There'd be no repairing this mess. If they had been grounders, they'd be stuck here for good, or at least until someone came to investigate why their ship never arrived to its destination. Energon wouldn't have been a problem, but the threat level of this planet was very high. Archa 7 was full of giant organic spiders that, for reasons unknown to any scientists, feasted on any organisms that landed on their planet, be they organic or cybernetic. It would be up to Megatron and Cyclonus to keep any of the disgusting things as far away from the ship as they could or, barring that, they needed to get Strika out if there were too many even for two Cybertronian fully armed warframes to take care of. The corpses of their fallen comrades and, possibly, Blackout will keep the spiders busy enough for them to escape, though Megatron would prefer not to loose such an asset like Blackout. The energon would at least be safe from them so they can always come with more soldiers to pick it up without anyone being put at risk.

And it seemed that they'd have to do things that way, too, as not even fifty mechanometers from their crash site, there was a whole swarm of the nasty things, only they weren't heading towards the Decepticons' ship. They were, instead, seemingly trying to pry open what looked like a long distance stasis escape pod. It looked too small to be containing a Decepticon, but they did have civilianframe sympathizers on Cybertron and they could always use more soldiers or more intelligence on the happenings of Cybertron. The person could even be a defector who wanted to join the Decepticons and the swarm wasn't too big. He and Cyclonus would be able to safely engage them without putting themselves to risk.

He looked towards his soldier and the purple mech nodded. Megatrpn returned the nod and powered up his Fusion Cannon as the two of them fired up their thrusters and jumped into the air. The spiders paid them no heed until Megatron blew off one of their kind's head with his cannon and then most of them rounded on the two warriors, screeching and spitting their sticky webs or trying to jump high enough to reach them. Cyclonus sliced through two of them in one swing and Megatron blasted two more before they charged, being careful not to let any of the sticky stuff land on them or else they were slagged. It took a while but they were eventually able to scare them all off enough or kill enough of them to get to the pod. It was sealed shut but the spiders had managed to create gauges that must have penetrated deeply enough for the pod to wake up whoever was inside. Cyclonus stood guard as Megatron dug deeper into those gauges so he can get a good grip and heaved, tearing the hatch open with nothing but pure warframe strength alone. He threw it away to the side without ceremony, looking down at the occupant of the pod.

He had expected one of their spies, maybe. A political dissident. An Autobot soldier defecting from his faction. A rogue scientist who wanted more freedom for their work. Pit, he would have thought it more likely to be a disgraced Councilmech escaping from the system that will without a doubt turn on him.

He had _not_ been expecting bright, big, blue optics in a cute blue helm to stare up at him with wonder and no fear whatsoever. Megatron was glad only Cyclonus was around and that he was in much the same shock as he himself was, because he _gapped_ at the red, blue and silver little sparkling as it inspected the two adults that had found it. It cocked its little helm at them before its small light blue faceplates broke into an excited grin and it started chirping at them, blue servos reaching up for Megatron, asking to be picked up. Megatron just stared at it some more until it whimpered sadly and its optics started welling up with coolant and that had the warlord near panicking as he bent down and cooed at the little one, extending his big hands for it. The little mechling whirred happily and all but ran into his hold, nuzzling big, clawed dark digits as he climbed into the servos that were big enough to hide him completely from the world. The gray mech stood up with his precious burden, staring at it in awe and wonder, for he had not seen a sparkling in millennia. It had been so long. He had feared he'd never see another sparkling ever again. There had been plenty of newsparks during the war on both sides while it was still waged on Cybertron, but then the Autobots seized the AllSpark and the Decepticons couldn't reproduce anymore while more and more civilianframes were forged from protoforms. But this ...

"What the frag are you doing here, little one?"

"Lord Megatron! Don't curse in front of a sparkling!" Cyclonus, scandalized, exclaimed, looking at Megatron as though he had just plunged Dark Energon into his spark. The little mechling let out something that sounded an awful lot like a giggle and clapped in Megatron's big servos.

"Megaton!"

Both adults stared at the sparkling, gawking. He looked too young for speech. Then again, when exposed to stressful or dangerous situations, sparklings were known to mature quickly in order for their survival protocols to come online. Megatron and Cyclonus exchanged a look that could be a whole conversation about watching their language before the Decepticon Lord turned back to the smiling _adorable_ sparkling. "Mega_tron_, with an _r_. Like a neutron."

The sparkling stared at him for a moment, following his mouth movements, before chirping "Megatron!" and promptly settling down for a nap. The adults exchanged another look, amazed by the ease with which the sparkling had learned the difference, before refraining from cursing with all of their might when they heard the skittering and hissing of the spiders and it seems that they had brought reinforcements.

"Scan the pod so we can properly analyze this situation later!" Megatron ordered even as he put one sword away and held the sparkling close to his chestplates with his free arm. Now his cannon arm was armed with a sword as well as he activated his thrusters and took off into the sky, Cyclonus following as soon as the pod was scanned. And not too soon, either, as Strika pinged him saying Blackout was awake and that they were ready to leave whenever Megatron ordered. The gray mech looked down at the slumbering sparkling in his grip and exchanged one more significant look with Cyclonus. The purple mech nodded and that was that.

"Decepticons! Rise up!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Head Strategist**

**Summary: A sparkling discarded by its own people becomes one of the most powerful mechs in the universe, much to the shock of those who had thrown him away. Primus watches out for his children, no matter where they end up. And this discarded sparlking has the power to bring peace to a war that has been raging for eons. He only needs to survive.**

"You go on an energon delivery run and what do you return with? Energon? Credits? An Autobot helm or ten to boast about? No!" An elegant seeker with a not so elegant voice screeched at the returned party from Archa 7. "You return with a useless Autobot _sparkling_ we'll now have to feed!"

"Shut up, Starscream," Cyclonus said in a calm manner but he had never needed to be loud or particularly threatening to be scary as pit. He was an ancient mech with millions of tricks up his sleeve and he had survived this long _because_ of those tricks. Rare few Decepticons dared truly torque him off. Starscream, for all his flamboyant bravado, was not one of them. "Or you'll wake Optimus."

"You _named_ it!?" The incredulous Second in Command of the Decepticons screeched once more, only to shut up immediately when Strika growled. If there was one Decepticon no one dared torque off more than Cyclonus, it was the infamous General of Destruction.

"The name was inscripted in the old dialect on the inside of the escape pod," Cyclonus said motionlessly, staring intently at his seated leader with the sparkling still recharging in his big, black servos. "Thus we know his name is to be Optimus. Rather fitting for one so intelligent."

"And you said that he spoke?" An antlered asked with unmasked curiosity, peering at their newest, brightly colored addition. "Even if it was maturing through survival mechanisms to online the right protocols, speech would hardly be the first one to formalize. Usually it's battle protocols or the instinct to run from danger, since there is no way a sparkling could fight anything that even awoke those mechanisms. He must be very intelligent indeed."

"Okay, so he's a _smart_ energon guzzler that's not going to be good for anything. Oh joy."

"Starscream, you either mute it or I mute it for you. What's it going to be?" Wisely enough, the complaining seeker shut his tarp as soon as Megatron oh so casually said that with smoldering red optics that flashed a warning so clear even a blind mech would understand it. Megatron turned his gaze back down to the sleeping little one in his grasp, optics much softer at taking in such innocence, before he looked up at his High Command. "This is the first sparkling in the last several millennia, ever since before the start of the war. I refuse to let it die, whether it can be useful to the Cause or not. I won't order any of you to participate in raising little Optimus here," he glanced pointedly at the far too cute for his own good sparkling that let out an all too adorable warble before settling down into dreamland again. "But I will ask those of you who are willing to assist in raising him. I know next to nothing about sparklings and I'm afraid I'll be too busy. I claim the place of his primary caretaker for safety purposes, but I'll need help to actually fulfill such a role. Any volunteers?"

Surprisingly enough, there were several that didn't even hesitate to think about it.

"I will gladly assist you in any way or form you deem needed or worthy of, oh great and glorious Lord Megatron," Lugnut said, all but prostrating himself in front of his dear leader's pedes, who refrained from twitching in irritation, no matter how grateful he would be for the assist. "I shall protect the little one with my very spark!"

"Yes, that will be very useful, Lugnut." The little one will definitely need a bodyguard with _some_ mechs always around and he didn't even mean Starscream. The seeker was the least of his problems.

"I'll be glad to teach the newspark as soon as he is old enough for lessons, Lord Megatron."

"That would be greatly appreciated, Shockwave," Megatron replied with an inclination of his helm. "A good education is exactly what someone as seemingly intelligent as him needs."

"I'll help. Mostly with fighting lessons and maybe some basic normal social interraction, seeing as Lugnut and I are the only bonded couple-" Cyclonus coughed subtly under his breath and Strika sent him a glare. "The only bonded _couple_ currently on the ship. If he shows an affinity for anything else I might teach him, it's something we'll have to see to when he's old enough. For now, I think we should arrange for a sparkling-sitting schedule. And keep the DJD and Straxus _away_ from him, seeing as he'll definitely be a civilian groundpounder."

"Since you are indeed a busy mech, Lord Megatron, the bitlet can spend most time around me when you are otherwise engaged," Cyclonus offered respectfully, old gaze still locked on the sleeping sparkling. "I think I can teach him about the cultural differences and history of our people best, which should allow him to better understand our society and our Cause without falling into propaganda traps of either faction. You'll still be his designated primary caretaker," the purple bot shrugged. It was the most expressive any of them had seen him since his bondmate, Tailgate, had been stolen from their medbay by the traitor Getaway several hundred stellar cycles before the Great War had officially started, when the Decepticon movement was still being organized in the Gladiatorial Pits of Kaon. It left more than one bot staring. "I'll just take care of him for you whenever you are unavailable."

Megatron looked from his Lieutenant down to the sleeping sparkling and back up to Cyclonus. There was no denying that Cyclonus was his best bet at a correctly raised sparkling. The ancient warframe had been around from long before the war to fight off the Quintessons when they tried to enslave Cybertron. He'd lived through much and seen even more. He'd no doubt at some point held a sparkling and took care of it. What's more, he and Tailgate had been hoping for a sparkling of their own before the civilian grounder had fallen ill and was then stolen from Hook's clinic before anyone was sure if he'd survive the treatment Hook had administered. Cyclonus knew how to take care of Optimus and doing so will no doubt bring some life back into the old mech, yet Megatron was hesitant to let go of the sparkling. Something had pulled at his spark the moment he had laid his optics on those pretty blue ones when Optimus had looked up at him. He had never seen that shade of blue before outside of the energon crystals he used to mine before he became a gladiator and a revolutionist. Something was different about this young mech and Megatron was very interested in what it could be.

The fact that he was named in the old dialect had him wondering how the sparkling had even gotten such a beautiful and powerful name and why so young, when Autobots got names from their superiors after demonstrating how they can be useful (Ugh! Functionists, the lot of them) and Decepticons named themselves, which usually meant they didn't have a name until they were several groons old when their processors matured enough for cohesive thought processes and speech.

The fact that he was on the planet at all was even more confusing. Why would the Autobots throw him away? He wasn't defective or diseased in any way. He'd had Hook and Scalpel both to look him over and then even Oil Slick, their best chemist, to make sure he wasn't some sort of trap, though the positioning of said trap would have been equally as strange.

Optimus was going to need someone to give him a proper upbringing and though Cyclonus was a stoic nihilist most of the time since the stealing of his bonded, he was the best candidate to properly raise a newspark.

"I believe that to be wise. We'll need all the expertise we can get. Hook will no doubt agree, too, something we can really use." With that, they all turned to look at Starscream, who flared his plating and tipped his wings in a defensive/passive aggressive manner. "Well?"

"What? You expect me to help? I'm a seeker, the Airlord of Vos! It is beneath me to take care of a groundpounder's sparkling!"

The room collectively rolled their optics. Starscream might protest, but they all knew slagging well that his seeker coding, meant to watch over the Youth Centers back on Cybertron, will have him wrapped around Optimus little blue digits in no time.

00000

In fact, Optimus had the entire Nemesis wrapped around his little blue digits within the first three solar cycles since he arrived, charming them all with cutesy smiles and bright optics, no matter their color. No one cast him a second glance for having such bright red, blue and silver plating or blue optics or those cute little finials that no warframe would online with because those things were fragging sensitive and, as such, a liability. They all just cooed at them and he cooed right back at them all, no matter how much they towered over him, not afraid and perfectly content to be held by living weapons of mass destruction. By the time a decacycle passed and Optimus was speaking in the most basic of Cybertronian dialects that everyone understood, he had the entire accompanying fleet flailing around to fulfill his every whim. Optimus would just clap and giggle at their fumbling but he never asked for much, humbly accepting everything with great happiness and gratitude whenever something was given to him, no matter how small or insignificant seeming.

The little one was indeed smart. He learned everyone's names after only two to three repetitions and remembered faces really well. By the time he was with them for a decacycle and not much older than that, he had started counting and his first writing lessons with Shockwave, which the scientist slash spy slash Head of Intelligence reported was going extremely well, especially for someone so young. He had integrated well into the dynamics going on around Nemesis and had learned a third of the ship's layout so far. He didn't hesitate to go exploring with any sparkling-sitter available at the moment, most often Cyclonus as his acting caretaker, and he was curious about _everything_ on the ship. He didn't scare easy, even when lumbering and hulking mechanisms like Lugnut, Strika or Blackout passed him by in the hallways. He seemed to know how to read EM fields already, seeing as he always chirped in worry at angry or upset bots to see if they were alright even though he could probably ask them with words now that he'd apparently passed the sparkling language stage.

It was easy to become fond of the energetic sparkling as he wandered the halls if Nemesis, peering up at the towering warframes with nothing but wonder and curiosity and a healthy dose of awe. He was careful not to get underpede and not distract anyone from their work. He didn't demand attention or bother people. He respected the rules that were laid out before him and even scolded warframes to abide by them, too, much to many a mecha's amusement. He didn't do anything dangerous or cause trouble. In fact, he acted like such a perfect sparkling that Scalpel actually did a secondary diagnosis to double check if he really was a sparkling and not a grown mech in a miniature frame. Of course, the results came back claiming Optimus was just a normal sparkling but apparently with a very pleasing temperament and good survival instincts that kept him out of trouble most sparklings would get into if they had been in his place.

He brought something light and a lot like ... well, _something_ a lot like a glimpse of peace into the lives of the exiled half of the Cybertronian species, despite him belonging in frame type to the half that had run them off of their home planet. He was just too bright and happy to be brought down by the gloomy atmosphere of the scarcely lit hallways if the dark ship. He made anyone's solar cycle better when he asked to be picked up by them and he liked cuddling. A lot. The Decepticons as a whole and as every individual by themselves were not touch-prone like their enemies were, a lot more cautious about who they showed any weakness or vulnerability in front of. Even interfacing was cold and impersonal unless the pair is sparkbonded. As a result, all the warframes were quite literally touch starved, or at least for the type of touch that didn't produce pain as a result. It took them quite a bit to get used to the idea of a cuddle-seeking sparkling that absolutely purred when it got to snuggle up with its many occasional caretakers throughout the ship. Then, by the time they stopped immediately onlining their battle protocols at so much contact, they started encouraging those little cuddle sessions because _they_ liked them and purred subtly at the tenderness and intimacy of such an act. They only allowed it with little Optimus, of course, since they knew the sparkling will never judge them for it, and it sort of became the new unspoken, unmentioned norm.

Playing with the sparkling was also a spectacle. They had no toys on any of their ships, obviously, and Hook forbade them all from giving Optimus empty ammunition shells as toys, so several mechs came together and made Optimus a gaggle of rough but safe toys that had the sparkling shrieking in delight when he first saw them. Little toy vehicles or 'dolls' as organics termed them and many stimulative games that would engage his young processor. They even made him a miniature and much lighter lob ball from some scrap they welded together and helped him with his optic-servo coordination either by playing catch or kicking it with their pedes. Seeing the little one play had even inspired the adults to clear up the loading bay and make a bigger lob ball for a game of their own. Megatron had made sure he was there to keep an optic on Optimus while the sparkling 'ooh'-ed and 'aah'-ed at the game as it progressed. The seasoned warriors made sure not to hurt each other for fear of what their resident medics might do if they somehow upset Optimus. It made the game even more interesting when they had to come up with new ways to either keep or take the ball.

Nemesis and much of its accompanying fleet were officially a no-cursing zone.

Some times, like right now, Optimus himself was used as a ball for a _very_ gentle game of lobbing, the players delighting in the laughing and cheering of the little mechling as he was carefully tossed and tenderly caught by the participants, everyone extremely gentle and careful to not get rough or accidentally drop the sparkling, Primus help them if it were to happen. They were so enjoying their game - Pit, even Cyclonus had joined in and couldn't stop a small, barely there smile from pulling up his lip plates - that they almost didn't notice the alarm that the loading bay's gate was opening to admit a unit. Optimus was quickly caught and cradled in the nearest mech's servos, which just so happened to be Starscream - who was usually there for these games to make sure the 'brutes' don't 'rub off' on their resident sparkling or actually injure him in their carelessness (seeker coding could be a nag for everyone around said seeker) - and they all watched warily, as this was unscheduled. They would know, they always checked and double checked when they knew they'd have Optimus joining them.

This couldn't mean anything good.

And they immediately knew it wasn't when ten horrifyingly familiar forms entered the pressurized airspace, leaving behind the frigid cold of space, wicked, cruel red optics gazing at the gathered mecha like a predator would its prey. Tarn, Helex, Overlord, Vos, Agent 113, Kaon, Tesarus, Sixshot, Black Shadow and Nickle couldn't seemingly decide what to make of them, admittedly confused by their presence as they weren't expecting what could look like a welcoming party if everyone wasn't drawing their EM fields close to their frames and their armor flush against their protoforms in fear before Overlord seemed to decide he didn't care and grinned his most sadistic smile at them, making the players feel like their paint wanted to crawl right off their plating and run away from that gaze. And when that terrifying gaze settled on Starscream, he as subtly as he could shoved Optimus into the passing Lugnut's pincer-like servos and held his wings somewhere between aggressive and submissive as the big mech marched right over to him, Tarn following afterwards with a nonchalant air even as he, too, gazed wickedly at the not so loyal seeker.

"Hello, _Screamer_," Overlord purred, enjoying the way the seeker's wing quivered in his presence. "Did you miss us?"

"I sincerely hope you remember your last _lesson _with us, Starscream." While Overlord's sadistic purr of enjoyment made anyone quiver in fear, the reaction of horror to Tarn's voice would be as instinctive as fear of sparkeaters and scraplets, for it curled around your spark and twisted and tugged and pulled and crushed until you either go mad or offline. Even praise uttered in that voice sent dread through one's neural net. Starscream predictably flinched and hunched in on himself, trying to make himself smaller so they'd leave him alone sooner. "I do so hate repeating myself."

"You know, I think it'd be best if we had a revision, right now. Just to check." If at all possible, Overlord's crazed grin got wider and there was a collective recoil of the gathered mecha, save Cyclonus, the only one of them that outright didn't care if he died or didn't fear the Decepticon Justice Division because he was one of the only three who could take them down. Not all at once, even he and his experience weren't enough for that, but he could take down Tarn and Overlord before the DJD leader could use his voice to extinguish his spark. Even he was tense, though, and the soldiers stationed on Nemesis knew it was because _Optimus_ was _right there_, so _close_ and they all knew that his presence was supposed to be kept a secret where these _monsters_ were concerned.

"That just might be the smartest idea you've ever had," Tarn agreed and though no one could see his face because of the Decepticon-brand shaped mask he wore, everyone could tell from his tone alone that he was grinning and that sent a shudder of unadulterated fear through everyone's spark. Starscream even let out a whimper.

"Then it's a good thing we agree, for once,Tarn," Overlord purred as he stepped closer and took Starscream's servo in a crushing grip when the seeker tried to flee. "I was growing bored."

Everyone knew that a day Tarn and Overlord agreed was always a day that someone might be driven to madness and suicide. Judging from the sick eagerness in their extended EM field and the grins spreading across the faces of the other DJD members, Starscream was a goner. And judging by the way he held himself with bravado and barely held together defiance, he knew it, too, and refused to go down without some resistance.

"Should we begin?" Tarn asked smoothly and was about to take another step closer when something most unexpected happened. Something small, mostly red and completely _not_ Decepticon ran right in front of where his pede was going to land and yelled a loud "Hey!" The big mech froze in surprise, oblivious to the horrified and panicked gasps that the other Decepticons let out when they saw just what - or rather _who_ \- was standing right under Tarn's pede. The leader of the DJD reset his optics and moved his pede back to peer down at the defiantly glaring little sparkling that was about as tall as his clawed digit. Overlord leaned down to peer at the bitlet, too, curious and surprised _anyone_ would dare step in front of them, let alone something so small and fragile. He completely ignored the now trashing seeker he held in one servo with ease, trying to get to the sparkling, or the orders from Lugnut to - "In the name of the great and glorious Megatron!" - step away from the little one.

Where anyone else would be shaking in their plating at the attention of the two most powerful and sadistic Cybertronians in existence, little Optimus stood steady and unafraid, even glaring adorably at the deadliest weapons of mass planetary destruction that the universe has ever seen, undeniably blue optics flashing in a warning. "Don't pick on Starscream! He didn't do anything to you! Only bullies and mean bots pick on bots smaller or weaker than them and I don't like bullies."

Tarn ignored the panicked cries of everyone as he leaned down and picked up the sparkling in his wicked sharp, clawed hand, the little one not even flinching at his touch. His own DJD members often flinched at his touch, even Overlord, who claimed not to fear him. The only ones who'd never flinched away had been Cyclonus, Strika and Lord Megatron, who could best him in battle and rip out his vocalizer before he could use it on them to kill them. And yet here this mere civilianframe _sparkling_ was ... "You are not afraid?"

"Should I be?" Optimus asked, glare still half in place, his displeasure at Starscream's rough handling warring with curiosity at these new mechs he'd never seen before.

"You should?" Overlord pushed Starscream away hard enough to dent the bulkhead behind him, grinning at the sparkling with the intent to frighten him, showing off all of his sharp dentae for added affect. Optimus just cocked his helm to the side, anger completely replaced with wonder and confusion.

"Why? Is it because you hurt?"

"Yes, because we hurt other bots. We like it." Tarn was quiet now, watching the even bigger mech than him try to intimidate the sparkling he held as the rest of the loading deck watched in tense fear and infinite worry for the young one they had come to care for a great deal more than they had ever thought possible.

Optimus just shook his helm, though, not worried at all. "No, _you_ hurt. Right here." And he proceeded to stun everyone by reaching out of Tarn's hold to place his tiny servo right over Overlord's spark. The mech tensed at the touch, probably more so because no one had ever wanted to touch him at all, let alone so gently and somewhere so vulnerable, so _intimate_. "You hurt right here."

"No one can reach me there," the mech tried to growl out, being the one who was intimidated in this interaction instead of it being the other way around. "My plating is too thick and far stronger than any weapon that might try to go for my spark and I'm too powerful to be snuffed. I'm not hurt there. I was _never_ injured there."

"Hurt," Optimus insisted stubbornly. "You hurt. You're not injured, but you hurt. You hurt because all anyone's ever expected of you was to hurt others and that hurt you. You never belonged anywhere, not even with bots exactly like you, so you hurt. You too," the sparkling rounded on the stunned Tarn, placing his other servo over the Decepticon insignia over Tarn's sparkchamber. "You hurt, too. You want acceptance but you get fear. It's fun to you but it's also lonely and so you hurt. You _all_ hurt." Blue optics traveled to the gapping DJD members staring at two of their most fearsome fighters getting _pitied_ by a distressed sparkling that stared at them all with confusion and pain and _sorrow_. "Why do you hurt so much? No one should hurt like that! No one!"

And then the Decepticons were treated to a sight that was more unbelievable than Megatron bowing his helm to the Autobots or Primus deciding to stretch out his limbs or Unicron coming from the sky to devour their home planet. The DJD as a whole scrambled to clamber around the distress sparkling leaking optic coolant in sorrow, uttering some rubbish reassurances and platitudes, assuring Optimus that they were okay and it wasn't so bad, each and every single one of them panicking when they passed along the sparkling between the ten of them and he clung to them as though cuddles might cure millennia of pain and wickedness. They could do nothing but gawk as Optimus unknowingly wrapped the deadliest creatures in the universe around his little blunt blue digits with his empathy and kindness. Pit, _Cyclonus_ was gapping, optics unable to tear away from the - frankly ridiculous - scene as the turbofox-former Dominus Ambus, or Agent 113, played peek-a-boo with the sparkling to cheer him up. Starscream couldn't even be bothered to pry himself out of the wall and Lugnut didn't even notice when Shockwave, Strika and _Megatron_ walked in. They were all too stunned to vent, let alone react.

Strika wasn't.

"What in the name of the smelting pits is going on here!?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Head Strategist**

**Summary: A sparkling discarded by its own people becomes one of the most powerful mechs in the universe, much to the shock of those who had thrown him away. Primus watches out for his children, no matter where they end up. And this discarded sparlking has the power to bring peace to a war that has been raging for eons. He only needs to survive.**

"What the frag were you thinking, letting the DJD not only _see_ Optimus, but also get their servos on him!?" The brown and orange femme thundered a joor later, after Optimus had been passed on to the new and promising Lieutenant Blitzwing to be put down for his midcycle nap, glaring _murder_ at the three high ranking officers that had been at the scene when Optimus had met the mechs that could have very well been his killers. Starscream was still too shaken by his near death encounter, Cyclonus appeared as indifferent as ever if not for the way he was constantly clenching and unclenching a fist and Lugnut looked the perfect picture of an ashamed puppy crossed over with a repenting sinner begging for forgiveness from his consort and from his leader. Said leader was sitting in the captain's chair in the bridge, rubbing at his forehelm in an attempt to stave off a helmache at the same time as preventing panic from gripping his spark, listening to his most trusted General yell at the idiots responsible. Shockwave stood to the side, watching the proceedings, while Hook glared daggers at the three. They were just lucky that the CMO hadn't found a single chipping of pain on Optimus or else they'd be long since dead. "How could you let this happen when the _first_ thing we discussed was never letting him go anywhere _near_ DJD!? He could have been killed faster than organics blink!"

"I know that! That's why I immediately pushed him off to that lumberi g fool you call a Conjux Endura when Overlord locked on me! I'm a _victim_ here! Ask Hook! He repaired the damage!" Starscream defended himself, screeching but voice much quieter than anyone was used from the seeker. To be expected. He was still shaking under his armor and no one blamed him. No one liked interacting with the DJD.

Well, no one except certain sparklings, it would seem.

Strika immediately rounded on Lugnut, who whimpered under his beloved's glare. "It is true, my beautiful, magnificent Strika. I am at fault! I had not managed to get a good grip on him and young Optimus managed to wiggle free. It is entirely my fault. I will take whatever punishment you and Lord Megatron deem fitting!"

"It is not entirely Lugnut's fault, General Strika," Cyclonus surprised them by speaking up, the entire room focusing in on him. "I was the one who checked the loading bay's schedule but I should have informed the bot on duty to notify me should anyone be due in unexpectedly. I was assigned his caretaker at the time. The fault lays with me in equal measure. I should have prevented him from reaching Tarn."

"By that logic, Cyclonus," Megatron groaned, only barely preventing himself from slumping in his throne-like seat. "The fault is equally mine. I should have reached out to you directly when Tarn informed me he and his fellows will be boarding the Nemesis for an emergency meeting regarding our informants on Carminus. I just thought the bots on duty would notify everyone to clear the loading bay."

"That particular bot seems to have fled the scene as soon as he heard about it, Lord Megatron," Shockwave informed him, coming over to hand him a datapad. "Agent 113 sniffed him out not long after we took Optimus from them. Our informant has apparently contacted the DJD and told them that Counterpunch is actually the Autobot Punch Major of the Elite Guard, meant to infiltrate our ranks. I forbade them from killing or torturing the captive until we get to interrogate him." Megatron looked up at his one opticked friend and Head of Intelligence, feeling the gravity in his EM field. "For Optimus' sake, we might have to terminate him. He saw how much Optimus means to everyone. He could become a target. It would only be logical."

"Just make it quick and far away from Optimus. I don't want him around such things," the warlord grumbled before turning to look at Hook. "How is he, actually?"

The CMO hummed thoughtfully, cocking one hip. "Perfectly fine, actually. Not a scratch on him and he didn't look scared at all. He actually kept asking me about them. I think he ... likes them, for some reason. He says they're in pain unlike anything he had felt before."

"Are you insinuating he has empathic abilities? Or telepathy?" Starscream inquired, looking interested in the possibility. "I've heard of it only once or twice before. It's a rare outlier gift and often called a curse by those who have it. It usually drives them mad."

"I don't think it's empathy or telepathy, per se," Shockwave interrupted before anyone else could comment. "His processor is a perfectly normal with no anomalies to suggest such a mutation in coding to create a special ability, though his coding scheme seems a bit outdated. Nothing concerning, just older than I had expected in a newspark. It actually brings to question how he is even online and how he was created, since no one has the AllSpark now. But besides that, he's a perfectly normal sparkling. Any special abilities or modifications will be only cosmetic or surface-deep."

"Then how could he have done what he did in the loading bay?" Megatron asked, wondering just what they had found when they pried open Optimus' escape pod. Megatron had thought him a surviver of a nearby crashed ship, but he'd sent scouts in that sector and it all came back empty. He had then assumed him to be discarded, but that seemed unlikely as he was the first sparkling in centuries, if not longer. Why would someone throw him away? But that was also the only likely possibility, for Optimus had been sent away with no termoblanket, no extra provisions like coolant or energon or even oil and the coordinates he'd landed at weren't set. The coordinates in the pod had never _been_ set to take him to any particular destination. Just what had they gotten themselves into when they picked this little sparkling up and why didn't he care and just want to keep him safe?

"Through empathy," Cyclonus answered and they all looked back towards him, only to find him with his back half turned towards them, staring out the large windows at the space outside, the stars and distant galaxies in sight.

"I though I just explained why he _can't_ have such an ability," the scientist/spy/Head of Intelligence grumbled at the horned mech, who only shook his helm, glancing at Shockwave with one optic over his shoulderstrut.

"Not that kind of empathy, but _natural_ empathy for another sentient living being. He looked at them and saw what no one else saw and perceived the truth behind their cruelty. I cannot say that I completely agree with his opinion that they are good mecha underneath all that malice, but they are obviously not as sparkless as we all assumed them to be. He saw that after seeing them for only such a short time at first glance and we had been around them for so many stellar cycles and never even got a hint of it."

"So you're saying he's just really perceptive," Hook hummed again, deep in thought. "Sounds plausible. And sparklings _do_ have a natural heightened sense of empathy towards other beings. Whether such traits stay is usually a question to be asked and answered as they grow."

"But it's quite possible Optimus won't grow out of it," Starscream finished for him, seeing where this was going. "That might get problematic, especially around here."

"Perhaps," Cyclonus nodded, turning back to the stars. "Or perhaps not. It might turn out to be something very useful and important indeed. Though I hate the possibility of it."

"What? Why?" The confused Strika asked, exchanging a look with her bonded and then her Lord, both of whom were just as confused. Judging from the attentive silence from Shockwave, Hook and Starscream, they didn't know either and were keen on hearing Cyclonus reasoning for such words of distaste.

"Because no one so young should be able to perceive the pain through which those as old as us have been through. I fear it may taint his innocence and _that_ is what we need more and have come to rely upon even more in the past decacycle. Optimus is the first ray of innocence from our species in a very long time and I do not wish to see it dim in his optics when reality finally hits him."

00000

Reality did hit him, eventually, when he was a mechling, but Optimus never changed.

The first stellar cycle he spent with the Decepticons marked a sudden change in their modus operandi as Optimus continued to, one by one, day by day, make their lives just a bit more bearable in their exile. He grew into a healthy youngling that loved to run the halls of Nemesis and learn anything and everything anybot would be willing to teach him, starting, of course, with general knowledge any youngling should know from Shockwave and Cyclonus. He was a quick study no matter the field, though he showed his own affinities soon enough for more historical topics than, say, science or engineering, much to some of the mecha's disappointment. Cyclonus and Megatron, though, delighted in this find and the warlord was happy to spend countless joors telling Optimus about their proud history. Not just of the Decepticons - to do so would be equal to spreading propaganda - but of their race as a whole and Optimus soaked it up like those strange organic organisms called 'sponges' or something. Optimus was every bit as smart as they had thought when Cyclonus and Megatron first found him.

By the time he was two stellar cycles old, Optimus had gotten big enough to start some self defense lessons, a must for living on a warship. It's not that everyone was eager to put him on the battlefield, but he was only as big as a bot's forearm and he couldn't always be protected. The situation with (Counter)Punch pretty much made it a priority that he knows how to defend himself should there be another spy on board. And you never know when they might engage in battle. Not just against the Autobots, either. The Decepticons are the mightiest military force in the universe and there have been quite a few species who had shown an interest in the exiled warframes of Cybertron after they had to sign the Tyrest Accords peace treaty or risk the Galactic Council getting involved. The Quintessons, Cybertron's most ancient enemies, had been first among them to show such avid interests and Megatron didn't want to think about why, given their last attempt to enslave Cybertronians. To have Optimus defenseless should such an attack be made would be a grave mistake he did not want to regret.

And so Optimus' training started. He was as quick a learner in fighting as he was in everything else. Nothing to match a sparked warframe, given he lacked the battle protocols necessary for the natural quick progress in fighting experience a warframe would acquire, but he was faster than your normal civilianframe sparkling would manage. He had gained a bit of warframe pride from spending all his time with the Decepticons, so he got frustrated at times when he realized his instructors were holding back in order not to overwhelm him. He was reasonable about it, of course. He knew his limitations for someone so young, small and vulnerable, but he wanted to learn more _because_ it was like that, so he'd have a better chance at surviving under such conditions. His instructors reluctantly gave him more intense trainings - only sometimes, though - and they all watched and marveled as Optimus learned and developed. He was a bit of a workaholic, so they had to keep him from overworking himself at the cost of his health. He was a brave, though little youngling because he only flinched when Hook or Scalpel pounded out his dents or massaged stressed pistons or treated straining cables as they scolded him that such carelessness could lead to serious injury that might impair his growth and development.

By the time Optimus was ten stellar cycles old and reached about Megatron's mid thigh, he could pilot three different ship types and knew how to handle hald held guns and had just started edged weapons training, beginning with a small knife. Megatron had taken on being his instructor in these lessons as much as Cyclonus had, the two of them watching over Optimus' form as they slowly taught him how to best use his smaller size and the blade he was given. It wasn't even an energon blade, just an ordinary knife with an edge. They had wanted to start it off with a blunt knife, but Optimus had protested being babied forever. By fifteen stellar cycles, he had mastered it enough to be given a short sword. By thirty, a long sword and by forty, a claymore. By the time he was seventy stellar cycles old and mastering hammers, spears, maces and axes of all kinds - he _really_ liked the last one, almost as much as swords - Megatron and Cyclonus decided Optimus was old and trained enough to be given an energon blade and so the process started all over again. By the time Optimus was approaching two hundred and sixty stellar cycles, he was swinging around an energon ax like he was onlined with it in his servo and could beat any training simulations, barehanded or not, they could throw at him. He could be found in the training room at random times of the solar cycle as he took down virtual opponent after virtual opponent, which was when all his fighting instructors decided he was ready and grown enough to start sparring, seeing as he nearly reached Shockwave's shoulders by then and was very unlikely he'll grow much larger for his frame type.

When he was three hundred and fifty stellar cycles old, Optimus found himself learning about the reality of war when a legion of Autobot ships attacked the Nemesis and its usual entourage fleet of fifty smaller ships. He had been walking towards his room with a stack of datapads taller than his helm when the first attack hit the Nemesis' defense shields with enough strength to cause the ship to shudder, which had in turn caused Optimus to loose his balance a little and drop all of his datapads at once as he tried to catch himself so he wouldn't fall. It was soon followed by several others of the same intensity before more power was redirected to the shield and Nemesis began returning fire. As soon as he steadied himself, Optimus clumsily picked up his datapads, stuck them messily into his subspace and took off running towards the bridge, intent on staying near the High Command mecha, as he was instructed to do if possible should something like this happen. He also had an ulterior motive. His caretakers tended to gloss over or completely avoid telling him about the missions most of the bots went on because he was 'too young'. They'd all be too focused on the Autobots today in order to censor themselves around him and he _wanted_ to see what their lives really were like. Today was his chance.

As he sprinted through the halls of the flagship, Optimus was well aware of the soldiers running around him, hurrying to their stations or to the nearest exit point in order to join the fray and protect the Nemesis, their mightiest ship. No one had the time to spare him a second glance, only aware of him enough not to trample over him as they rushed about, trying to get their jobs done. He saw Hook chase some of the still injured soldiers back to the medbay or into stations that won't aggravate their wounds, the other Constructicons either helping him or securing the most vital components of the ship. The sirens were blaring all over the ship, calling to battle stations or demanding the reports or presence of certain mecha. Optimus sent an answering ping to the Decepticon warlord when his name was called, rounding the corner to the hallway that led only to the bridge. He paused when he saw the sparking circuitry in the wall from where an unlucky frontliner had lost his balance and knocked into it, knocking himself out cold. He called for a medic and gave his location, cautiosly approaching the wires. He had to disconnect the power to this circuitry or risk a fire, but he wasn't an engineer and he didn't know if doing something here could have effects somewhere else on the ship. He took a holopic and stamped the location before hooking it up onto the ship's cybernet interface and soon enough got an answering ping from an engineer. He sighed in relief from knowing someone will come take care of it in a klik and reluctantly left after checking the unconscious bot one last time.

When he got to the bridge, he was surprised to see it so loud and full of mechs, Strika and Shockwave dominating it as the General barked orders and the Head of Intelligence kept spitting out streams of data about the ships, their captains and the commander of the Autobot legion. Optimus was only spared a glance for acknowledgement before everyone went back to their stations, staring at their screens, relying instructions or reading reports from the battlefield. Optimus couldn't see Megatron, Cyclonus or Blitzwing anywhere, but he could make out where Lugnut was using his POKE, the seeker armada's attacks under Starscream's command and where Blackout was using his EMP blasts to shut down Autobot ships. He knew that Oil Slick had to be somewhere out there because Scalpel was their best field medic since he was too small to be shot and those two were partners. A sudden worry gripped him, stronger than that one time Tarn had been interrogating a traitor with his voice but hadn't known Optimus was nearby and the little one's spark had seized in pain. That mech had offlined in seconds but Optimus had only let out a whimper that had had the entire ship panicking as all medics in the fleet monitored his spark for the next three solar rotations. He remembered Tarn looking guiltier than Lugnut when he was being berated by both Strika and Megatron at the same time whenever Optimus showed any discomfort because of that unhappy encounter.

This worry squeezed him harder than Tarn's voice ever could, for he realized, beyond the ship walls and glass windows, the mechs who had all taken to being his caretakers, his _family_ as organics called it, were _dying_ and he could do nothing about it. He could only sit back and watch as Strika and all the mechs on the bridge tried to save as many lives as they could without backing out. He could only listen as the names of fallen (thankfully very few, for now) and the injured (increasing by the breem) mecha was read. He could not be a part of the backup that was requested all around the battlefield.

But when he looked at the diagrams and the statistics and the digital display of the battle on the screens in front of Strika, he found them ... familiar. He'd seen that pattern before, he was sure of it! And in one of the datapads he'd returned to the ship's little library just breems ago! It was a tactic the Autobots had used before and the Decepticons had managed to counter it last time easily enough and with far lesser numbers. Nothing was changed. There were still the same weak spots present. Not even the numbers had changed, only a new model of ships but judging from Shockwave's reports regarding these new ships, the changes were, all in all, minimal and cosmetic at best. Wider shield range, that was it. That wouldn't impair the counter tactic used for this one in the slightest.

So why wasn't Strika ordering everyone into position? Could it be that ... she hadn't recognized it? But Strika was one of the very best strategists of their people! She, Megatron and several others throughout their history had led and won billions of battles with their armies, all by themselves! There was no way she could not know how to defeat this tactic ... But what if she didn't remember it? The tactic was from the early stages of the great war and that was four million stellar cycles ago. She'd had plenty of other battles to plan since then. She couldn't afford to save every tactic she'd faced against in her memory files. Only an archivist model would be able to memorize so much data. And as amazing as Strika was, she was no archivist model, nor did she have their memory drives and their storing capacities. She was unknowingly leading the troops into a losing formation. Or at least one with a much higher casualty account. That strategy would work on most other formations, but not the ones the Autobots were currently using.

Optimus didn't even think. It hadn't even occurred to him to try and explain his realization and thoughts to Strika or anyone for that matter. He just acted, walking right up to Strika's station while she was arguing with Starscream over the comms about the placement of his armada and rearranging the purple dots on the screen that represented the Decepticons and sent the new formation to the troops and Megatron before anyone could react or try to stop him. He barely registered the yelling that ensued as Strika realized what he did and then there were large servos yanking him away, hauling him off of the bridge and shoving him into the nearest room with a lock, which turned out to be a supply closet, as the mecha on the bridge tried to correct what he had done. Whoever had been ordered to take him away must not have checked the strength they were using because one moment Optimus was falling and the next his helm slammed into something solid and unmoving hard enough that his vision was filled with static. He tried sitting up, but he had lost all sense of equilibrium and the world swam and spun around him as he tried to focus his hearing the find out what the result of his intervention was but it was for naught.

With a final dizzying spin of his processor, his world went black as the battle raged on.


	4. Chapter 4

**Head Strategist**

**Summary: A sparkling discarded by its own people becomes one of the most powerful mechs in the universe, much to the shock of those who had thrown him away. Primus watches out for his children, no matter where they end up. And this discarded sparlking has the power to bring peace to a war that has been raging for eons. He only needs to survive.**

He didn't remember the panic of his caretakers upon finding him unconscious with a cracked finial and a heavily dented helm in the supply closet, nor did he remember the hushed discussions had over his prone frame as the consequences of his actions bore fruit. He wasn't aware of the worry as his most regular caretakers took turns to visit him nor did he know that he spent an entire decacycle in stasis until he finally started booting up. The first thing he registered when he did was a large black digit stroking his undamaged finial and a tired Megatron gazing dazedly at the opposite wall until he realized Optimus was awake and called for the medics. Hook, Scalpel and even Knock Out all gathered around him and started asking millions of questions one over the other until Hook threw the other two out when his scanners registered that Optimus' was having a helmache. Megatron remained blissfully quiet as Hook checked him over and declared there was no processor damage.

He had left when Megatron unexpectedly hugged his charge without warning and the colorful mech squeaked in surprise.

Two solar cycles later, Hook finally gave him a clean bill of health and one solar cycle after that, Strika called him to her office, where Megatron, Shockwave and, unexpectedly, General Scrash were waiting, the three of them standing behind the seated frontliner femme and staring at the civilianframe with blank, emotionless faceplates and fields drawn so tight against their bodies that Optimus doubted he'd be able to read their emotions even if they were touching. He shrank in on himself, immediately assuming the worst, as no one had answered his questions about the battle. He didn't know why, but he feared the answer. He sat without complaint when Strika told him to, feeling smaller and younger than when they had first found him.

"You undermined my authority, Optimus." Said bot flinched at the all too calm tone in which she spoke, also emotionless. Not 'little one'. Optimus. She rarely called him by designation. He must have really disappointed or angered her. Or, worse yet, _both_. "In front of so many officers and soldiers."

"I'm sorry but-" he tried to explain but Strika cut him off in that same cool tone of voice.

"Why?"

Optimus fought back another flinch and instead drew himself up straighter. He wasn't going to say he regretted his decision ... Not unless it had cost lives. He didn't know if it cost lives and it has been driving him _crazy_ the past three days. He wanted answers. He wasn't a sparkling anymore and they had to realize it! "Because you were leading hundreds of bots to their possible death-"

"That's, unfortunately, what Generals must do-"

But Optimus wasn't having any of these interruptions right now. "When there was another, better way and I realized you weren't seeing it."

"Then why didn't you discuss it with me, explain what I wasn't seeing?"

"There wasn't any time. The opening would have been lost if you sent out the orders you had been about to and the formation I gave would have-"

"Would have _what_, youngling!?" That show of temper had him pausing for a second before determination had him narrowing his optics.

"That formation the Autobots were using was one you've defeated before, but you weren't using the successful plan with which you'd won before despite the circumstances being nearly identical. You were willing to sacrifice twice if not thrice the amount of soldiers and resources when you could have just as easily preformed the same exact maneuver with the same exact results. You weren't going to do it, it was obvious from the orders you were about to send out, so I did it for you."

Strika's optics narrowed and if she had a proper mouth, she'd be baring her dentae at him, he was sure. "And what if it was a trap set by the Autobots to lure us into an arrogant state of security that we can use the same trick twice?"

Optimus met her glare with a calmly arched optic of her own. "They were obviously relying on thicker and wider spread shields to cover their weak or blind spots and expecting them to impair Decepticon mobility in between their ships. It was obvious from the Intelligence reports about the communication chatter from the Autobot ships. Whoever had been leading the battle had been relying on forgetting old tactics to win the battle, probably someone fresh out of the Academy who had only recently studied old Great War tactics. Their bet proved to be a winning one ... "

"Except they didn't account for you," Strika hummed in thought, still not revealing any emotion as she casually slid out a holoprojector and put it in between them. She turned it on and Optimus curiously took in what appeared to be battle formations, but the format suggested it was an interactive program, probably those war-sims Strika and Megatron liked to play for joors on end if they had the time. The tactical formations were familiar and Optimus recognized the battle plans of the first battle for Tyger Pax. A sure Decepticon victory that had left the Autobots reeling and retreating for seven decacycles. "What would you do?" He looked up when Strika asked, gesturing at the holographic battle. Optimus had no problem recalling the right memory file of reading about that particular battle and rearranged the troops into an identical position. It had been a throughout victory with little to no casualties on the Decepticon side, only two dozen injured and a hundred Autobot captives, seven of which were officers of varying rank and two Intelligence Agents. It led to a series of fifty consecutive victories between Strika and Scrash, as well as the lone victory of Vos for Starscream and the two charges led by Megatron through Crystal City which didn't derive from the information their T&I department gathered but rather rode on the wave. There was no reason to change anything.

Strika hummed and switched to a different battlefield, also a sure Decepticon victory. It was the second of the six battles for Luna 2, before the Omega Sentinels were created. Optimus easily recognized the pattern and rearranged the Decepticon troops into the winning formation. The General of Destruction just brought out another one, never making a comment, watching as Optimus, without hesitation, recreated the battle for Velocitron, then Caminus against the Quintessons millions of stellar cycles before the Great War, then the Defense of Massentine against the Volk before returning to the Great War tactics with the Siege of Iacon and the Bombing of Praxus. The other three just stood to the side, unmoving and merely observing as Strika put out test after test in front of the confused but unhesitating Optimus to solve.

Then, all of a sudden, Strika put in front of him a battle that could have gone either way, the Race for Tarnian Mines, as history bots dubbed it. Optimus hesitated, running calculations even as he slowly moved around one troop after the other, spark seizing in fear at the thought that these _numbers_ before him represented soldiers. He activated the interface and studied soldier profiles, ammunition and energon reserves before making new improvements, consulting statistics of the available intelligence provided by Decepticon spies. It took him half a dozen breems before he took his servos away, still hesitant, but unable to see what other adjustments he could make. The level of casualties didn't satisfy him. Just the _thought_ of these numbers representing the boots that were raising him had his energon cooling in fright. But he made no move to change anything and Strika surprised him by letting the simulation run its course. He twitched to make further changes as the simulated battle went on but Strika had pulled the projector closer to herself, indicating she wasn't going to allow it. The original battle had lasted two decacycles and had ended up being an Autobot victory due to the arrival of an Omega Sentinel, which caused a Decepticon retreat. That translated into two full breems of battle in the simulator. The changes Optimus made finished in one breem, that is one decacycle, with a safe strategic stronghold that allowed for a strong defense, which meant that the loses, although almost identical in number, were made up for with a decacycle of safe opportunity to mine for energon and oil in the rich mines of Tarn before the Decepticons would have to leave because of an Omega Sentinel. By that point, the Decepticon resources would be replenished and even have a little extra to take them off of rations for a little while, which would have put back the sure loss of the mad dash for Altihex's energon storage units five solar cycles later. Which would save two hundred frontliners and fifty seekers.

Strika did the calculations one more time before giving Optimus a new situation, also a shaky Autobot victory, also not allowing him to intervene except for the first formation. Then she gave him another on, the Battle for Nyon, also shaky, but this time allowed him to make changes as the simulation went. When the battle was over, Nyon was safely in Decepticon servos with fifty injured and a hundred offlined, more than half of the original casualties. There was not an Autobot left in the immediate two thousand mechanometers radius of the city and its energon fields. Strika stared at Optimus for a very long moment before starting a new program, a war-sim from the start, and two player interfaces opened, one before her, the other before Optimus. She let him explore the options before demanding his attention as they started building their digital armies. They played for joors. Optimus didn't even know how much time passed, all he knew was that he had to keep going, those weren't numbers, they were _his soldiers_, the lives of mechs that had trusted him, that had _raised_ him, and he fought and he finally lost, the chronometer on the simulation showing it had taken Strika well over thirteen joors to finally corner Optimus after a war that could have been anyone's at any point.

Optimus slumped in his seat, ashamed of his defeat, momentarily forgetting who he had been playing against and the experience the femme had over him. He sat there with hunched shoulderstruts, waiting for a rebuke, only to start when he felt a huge servo pat his helm with gentle fondness. He looked up at Strika and was sure she would have been smiling had she had a proper mouth.

"Clear up his schedule," the femme told her companions, Megatron, Shockwave and Scrash watching Optimus with something like wonder that had been absent from the Nemesis ever since everyone got used to Optimus and his effect on everyone as the first sparkling in millions if stellar cycles. Optimus stared back at them with confusion before looking up at the femme still patting his helm. "I want two to five joors of his day to be reserved for me. We'll make a great strategist of him yet."

"What?" Optimus could only utter as she passed him, Shockwave trailing after her, doing calculations on his datapad that Optimus didn't quite understand. Scrash sent him a wink and a smile before saluting Megatron and walking out of the General of Destruction's office. That only left Megatron and the mechling, the warlord smiling at him with great pride. Optimus shook his helm and looked pleadingly at the gray warframe. "What happened with the battle?"

"You did real well, little one," Megatron said instead of answering and just handed Optimus a datapad before walking out of the room without a second glance, leaving Optimus to marvel at his first won battle by himself to let it sink in.

00000

"We have them secured, Lord Optimus. The mining colony is ours," a field commander reported with a respectful salute, receiving an equally respectful nod in return.

"Hold it. Miners and transport ships are on their way. ETA five kliks. Report any activity from the Autobots if you spot it. Back up is ready to aid you should it be needed."

The field commander gave a firm affirmative before the comm was put on hold and the young mech turned towards his impressed mentor. "That's one thousand fifty three victories in a row, my little protégé. Should I be worried you're after my moniker?"

Optimus rolled hid optics at the femme, knowing Strika would be smirking if she had the mouth for it. "No, thank you. I prefer to be the Head Strategist, the mysterious commander no one but the Deceoticons know the name of. It makes life easier since I can go on political missions with Magnificus, too, to argue about political relations with other species."

The General of Destruction snorted, shaking her helm. "You're utterly wasted in that field, I say. You should be General, not just Head Strategist. You certainly have the knack for it."

"Strika, I'm pretty sure we practically share rank," Optimus said with a chuckle, turning to look at the report on approaching ships, trying to ignore how his spark skipped a harmonic or two upon seeing one vessel's name. "I just got a different title, is all."

"Yes, for a fragging good reason," the Decepticon femme said with a roll of her optics. "You are quite possibly the only bot who can dip his servos into every energon pie amongst the Decepticons. Your say is final for every strategy, you can veto any plan of action instantly and Peaceful Tyranny is _your_ ship. Megatron and I practically have to get your permission to use it in any of our plans. You can even go on those silly political outings with Magnificus and tell Straxus to stuff it and just deliver what he owes unless he wants the DJD after his tailpipe. Huh, I guess you _are_ more of a Head Strategists of _all_ fields than just a measly General. Maybe I'm getting too old for this slag."

"You're fine, so says your physician and I doubt Hook would let you out on active duty if he was wrong," the red and blue mech replied teasingly, shaking his helm at her harrumph. "Besides, I'm not really all that special. You and Starscream outrank me as TIC and SIC respectively and Megatron is the Lord of all Decepticons. It's really his say that's final. I guess he just considers my suggestions every once in a while." The two stared at each other for a moment before they both broke out into laughter at the notion, knowing that, although Optimus was very humble about it, he had the entirety of the Decepticons wrapped around his little digit and Megatron first among them. "Okay, jokes aside, it's really awesome working with all of you. I wouldn't be the bot I am today without you."

"Don't get all mushy with me, youngling," huffed Strika, despite the fondness of her vocals. Everyone knew Optimus was dear to her. She'd spent three hundred stellar cycles shaping him into the mech he was today, a commander who commanded respect by his accomplishments and competence alone, winning them over a thousand victories all on his own in the past one hundred and fifty stellar cycles alone. They'd managed to take a forth of their lost colonies just because of Optimus' contribution to the Cause, even though he himself did not bear the Decepticon brand. No one quite understood it, but it was according to Megatron's wishes so no one questioned it. Usually new recruits that came after the Great War got their brands upon proving themselves useful for the Decepticon Cause and Optimus had more than proved himself worthy to stand as one of them. Then again, he had been too young, too. He had only just reached maturity in the physical sense as well as the psychological, despite always being rather mature for his age. Maybe he'll officially become one of them now that he has. "Now run along. I know you can't wait to get to the hanger bay." She winked at him and Optimus gave her a halfhearted glare before running off, waving at any mech he passed as he traveled down the halls he knew by spark after growing up in them.

When he arrived at his destination, he could hold back his beaming smile at the gray Decepticon waiting for him. Megatron returned it with a small grin as Optimus all but flung himself into the larger mech's arms, the warlord easily catching him and holding him close. "Happy creation day, Optimus. I heard you celebrated it with another victory."

The civilianframe flushed at the subtle praise, grin only becoming wider and more excited. A thousand stellar cycles old and quite possibly the second most powerful - if not officially _the_ most powerful since he really did have his primary caretaker wrapped around his little digit - person in the Decepticon Empire and Optimus was still too cute for his own good, as far as Megatron was concerned. Although simply calling him cute didn't quite do him justice. He had been cute as a sparkling, with his huge blue optics and wiggling helm finials and adorable smiles that made anyone's day. Now, at one thousand stellar cycles old and finally coming of age, Optimus was _beautiful_. His red and blue plating weren't in a straight line, finely cutting and separating the two colors. Instead, the civilian - though only in frame; he had a practically military upbringing - had the two colors intertwining in flame-like patterns around his forearms and shins, looking like two worlds colliding on his body. He had a strange, slightly blocky alt mode of a truck with black glass covering his sparkchamber. He still had his finials and blue optics, but his helm now had a cap-like shape, his lips were full and he had a battlemask to slide over his face for protection, like most civilianframes did after battle upgrades only Optimus had his naturally. Despite being so small and bright, Optimus caught the optic of many a Decepticons, though none of them would even think about it since he had been practically a child. But now, as an official adult with a thousand stellar cycles of life, Optimus was ready for interface and bonding. He was on the proverbial courting market and his primary caretaker wasn't sure what to make of that fact yet.

Optimus, on the other hand, had been waiting for this day since he started being useful to the Cause and not just a kid everyone had to take care of. He was pretty sure everyone knew by now except the warlord himself, since Optimus wasn't exactly subtle in hiding his feelings for the older mech. Age didn't mean much to a Cybertronian. They weren't like organics, where the younger person would practically be wasting half of their life cycle and then having to suffer the death of their partner. What mattered to Cybertronians were bonds made through the merging of EM fields and sparks. Creatorhood, Amica Endura and Conjunx Endura were the most sacred of bonds and nothing could severe them. Caretakers can sometimes form powerful bonds with their charges, but Megatron had never done that, which left him as a viable partner for Optimus, despite being his designated caretaker. His spark recognized him as a potential bondmate and Optimus couldn't have been happier for that because he was seriously helm over pedes in love with Megatron.

He had once thought it just a stage and had been expecting it to past for decacycles, but as time past Optimus had realized it wasn't exactly just a little crush as he had first assumed. You only learn the depth of your feelings when you either lose or almost lose the person you love. Or see them with someone else. It had been a casual encounter with a pleasure bot and yet Optimus' spark had hurt _so_ much knowing that femme would be getting all of Megatron's attentions when Optimus really rarely got to see him these solar cycles, since the tyrant was busy looking for the AllSpark now that he could afford to leave his army in two sets of capable servos. He only came around once every two or three groons to check on everything and he never stayed long. He made sure to spend some time with Optimus, but the red and blue bot was at this point better acquainted with Oil Slick than the mech who used to put him on a shoulder pauldron and carry him through the Nemesis or any other ship in order for him to see everything or not get trampled. Megatron used to be an everyday presence in his life and the last twenty stellar cycles he only saw his occasionally. Him, Starscream, Blitzwing and Lugnut. Half of his usual caretakers were taken from him just when he was proving to be worth of the brand they all wore.

"It wasn't much but I think the additional resources will boost troop morale and afford the medics to use more energon in their prescriptions for their patients. Scalpel tells me recovery should be increased by 16%."

"Yes, that _is_ good," Megatron answered and then proceeded to sweep Optimus off of his pedes and placing him on one shoulder like when Optimus used to be a youngling. Said Head Strategist yelped even as the Decepticon warlord laughed, easily steadying him until Optimus was ready to balance himself. "It would seem we have _much_ to celebrate and all of it hanks to you." Optimus flushed with heat at the praise, his spark spinning madly in his chassis. "We have gained much from having you with us."

Optimus looked away before his face could start glowing with how hot it was. "How goes the search for the AllSpark?"

"A topic we can discuss after the rightful celebrations," Megatron brushed off and started heading towards the communal area, where everyone would be gathering to celebrate Optimus first millennium of life and well over half of a millennium as a strategy consultant, commander and Head Strategist, in that order. Almost all of the Decepticons loved their young Head Strategist, and not only because he continued to bring them victory after victory, but because they had known him since he was a little sparkling bringing joy into their gloomy lives.

Megatron wouldn't let his continued failure at retrieving the AllSpark to dampen the mood of Optimus' party.

00000

Optimus' mood still dampened when he saw Megatron take somebot else to his berth later that night and felt his new maturity all too well as his systems buzzed with a bit of high grade and charge. He wasn't a child anymore!

If only Megatron stopped treating him as one.


	5. Chapter 5

**Head Strategist**

**Summary: A sparkling discarded by its own people becomes one of the most powerful mechs in the universe, much to the shock of those who had thrown him away. Primus watches out for his children, no matter where they end up. And this discarded sparlking has the power to bring peace to a war that has been raging for eons. He only needs to survive.**

At one thousand two hundred and six stellar cycles of age, Optimus had learned to keep his emotions regarding Megatron locked tightly in his spark. It had taken him a while, but he finally managed not to flinch every time Megatron referred to him in any way that signified his youth in comparison to the tyrant and he learned how to not react at all when he saw Megatron taking various berth partners each time the warlord came to visit with the Nemesis, where he no longer lived. Megatron had taken the command flagship about a hundred stellar cycles ago for easier and faster space exploration. Optimus and Strika moved to the other command ship, Empirion, as well as Doomsday, Fatal Consequence, Harbinger, Kalis' Lament and Victory as well as their accompanying fleets to continue waging war on the Autobots. Strika had lamented leaving Kalis' Lament but had to agree that Empirion was a much better ship. They had debated over Victory but decided that the Empirion stood the best chance at remaining intact in case of an attack.

The victories lead by Optimus continued to pile up. Whenever one of the other commanders or generals had a critical situation, Optimus was the first to be contacted. Shockwave had discovered long ago that Optimus had a mix between a warframe processor and an archivist one, making him an ideal strategist because he could deal with enormous amounts of information and store them efficiently directly in his personal memory banks but also the protocols needed for battle and strategic thinking. No one was quite sure how a civilianframe could be onlined with a warframe processor and it had had Scalpel and Oil Slick taking samples of Optimus' CNA for study, not that the then sparkling understood or that the mech now remembered. The Decepticon Empire was slowly rejuvenating itself, the armada getting stronger, the fleet gaining new ships or repairing and upgrading old ones, their conquered worlds governed firmly but fairly, since Optimus pretty much held a tight reign on that one. He wouldn't let other people be mistreated for Decepticon advancement and victory. No one wanted to argue with him, since they mostly left the locals alone anyway except for once in two groons taxes that were pretty fair - thanks to Optimus and Magnificus, of course - though Straxus had to have a visit from the Phase Sixers to get it through his thick helm that he can't keep slaves and _abuse_ or _kill_ his citizens on Lucifer.

Straxus, though, wasn't the biggest problem Optimus had to deal with in Megatron's absence. His biggest problem was currently prancing about the large cargo bay of the Empirion, challenging Megatron for the right to lead the Decepticons, a challenge long since already held which had ended in Megatron's victory. The mech really _was_ big, as big as Overlord, which meant Optimus came to about his hips, and he was armed with enough firepower to blow up a moon. He'd approached the fleet two joors ago and had been let in under the joined supervision of the Constructicons and the Combaticons, the two gestalt teams being accompanied by none other than Cyclonus and Blackout for backup. He refused to leave no matter how many times any of them told him that Megatron was _not here_, instead demanding the Second in Command to face him in his stead. Since Starscream wasn't there, either, and Strika was on a mission so even the Third in Command was absent, it left Optimus and Shockwave with a very unpleasant situation. Both Megatron and Strika were informed that the pest was present but neither could make it to meet the challenge in the predicted twenty four joor before the 'challenger' wins by default. And only a higher ranking officer can replace the Decepticon Lord in his absence.

Unfortunately for the two grounders, not only were they the only officers ranking high enough to fill in the position, but Optimus technically ranked higher than Shockwave as the Head Strategist to the other's Head of Intelligence. No one was happy with this realization, _especially_ since their unwanted guest seemed to _know_ the beloved Decepticon Head Strategist was present. Fan_fragging_tastic.

By the time Optimus managed to convince the bots on the bridge to let him go down to the cargo bay, a crowd had gathered and gasps and hisses greeted his entrance when they registered the energon ax in his servos. No one was happy about this, that much was clear, and Optimus was sure someone was even suggesting they call in the DJD. But even Tarn couldn't help him now, since the DJD must obey the Decepticon rules and the challenge was valid. Even if, technically, neither challenged nor challenger were Decepticons.

Megazarak may have once been the leader of the movement, but Megatron had defeated him and won over the loyalty of the Decepticons long before the Great War started. Once he was beaten, the old Decepticon leader had been banished by the new one, left to roam the universe in shame, though Optimus had heard rumors that he'd returned twice to try and challenge Megatron just when the Decepticons were gaining power or winning more battles. Optimus guessed he should have expected something like this if the rumors had even a trace if truth in them. The Decepticon Empire is thriving and expanding once more and Megazarak wants his position back in a prosperous empire he could rule unchallenged.

Optimus, the cause of that development, though not a Decepticon in _any_ way but will and wish alone, was _not_ about to let the purple, giant-antlered mech take all of his hard work and make it for naught. Oh, and how he hated that Megazarak laughed in delight as his opponent stepped into view, all bright paint and blue optics like a true civilian groundframe. It only made Optimus grip his ax's handle tighter. He may be small, but he was trained by the Decepticons' best warriors and he was their best strategist. Megazarak may outweigh him and is twice as tall as him, but Optimus was cunning and had history on his side - quite literally. Optimus was a history buff through and through and he had studied all notable figures in the history available to him amongst the Decepticons, be it datapads or personal accounts of the events. Cyclonus, Strika and Blackout had been there, had had _first row seats_ to Megatron fighting Megazarak for the leadership of the Decepticons. Optimus had heard much about his fighting style. And though he might have changed it over the stellar cycles, Optimus doubted anyone can change _that_ much in their personal fighting style. Knowing the most basic of information will prove to be important as it may tip the fight in Optimus' favor.

He dearly hoped Hook was in a good mood, because he won't be coming out of this as whole as he was going in.

"This?! _This_ is your feared Head Strategist, the pupil of Strika, the conquerer of three thousand consecutive battles? The future heir of the Decepticons?" Megazarak mocked, chuckling in glee as the red, blue and silver mech walked closer. "You have grown soft and weak in my absence, Decepticons! For you have let a lowly _Autobot_ to lead you!"

"I'm not an Autobot," Optimus replied as he hefted his ax over his shoulder, staring Megazarak directly in the optic. "I'm Lord Optimus, Head Strategist of the Decepticons and currently the highest ranking officer close enough to accept your challenge. So either act your age or get off of my ship and away from my fleet. I have an Autobot legion to crush in several joors."

Megazarak immediately sobered up, laughter replaced by a sneer and a glare that could have been a super weapon had he used blaster optic lenses like some Decepticons Optimus had met. "Watch how you talk to your betters, _bitlet_, or I will chew you up and spit you out before you can reset your optics."

Oprimus very deliberately reset his optics as obviously and as slowly as he could, well aware he was playing with fire by mocking the larger mech. Good thing he was a firetruck, right? "State your purpose, Megazarak formerly of the Decepticons, or leave and forever hold your peace."

"Very well, young one. You have brought this upon yourself." Megazarak straightened and ripped off a piece of his own forearm plating, tossing it in front of the Head Strategist with a feral grin. "In the absence of your leader, I challenge _you_, Head Strategist Optimus, in his place for the right of leadership over the Decepticons. Single combat, everything goes. To the _death_!" He snarled the word, causing the gathered Decepticons to growl at the thought of losing the mech that had all partially had a servo in raising.

"And I accept, as in accordance of the Decepticon law," Optimus replied picking up the piece of plating and tossing it into the air before anyone could react and try to stop this. "May the best mech win."

"Oh," Megazarak all but purred, optics tracing the piece of metal in the air even if his attention was on Optimus. "I _plan_ to."

The piece of plating hit the metal floor of the Emperion and Megazarak lunged. Optimus didn't wait a second to engage his wheels on the side of his pedes, going in reverse at top speed to evade the lunge, raising his servo in the process and firing fire extinguisher foam right into Megazarak's faceplates, blinding him enough for the former warlord to stumble and nearly overbalance. Deciding to help him on his way down, Optimus fired two bola-whip throwers, watching them both wrap around the larger mech's pedes and finally making him lose balance and fall to the floor. Megazarak had freed himself in an instant with clawed digits, but Optimus was already upon him with his energon ax, using the rocket propelling system in his ax to put the required power behind his swing to cut straight through Megazarak's whole antler and half of the second one. The larger mech grunted in pain before swatting Optimus away like a fly as he climbed to his pedes, but Optimus didn't let himself be slammed into the wall, instead controlling his fall to roll and get up on his pedes.

Just in time for Megazarak to nearly trample him had Optimus not ducked and slid under his pedes at the last second, grappler helping him get further away by catching onto a ceiling pipe. The smaller mech swung his body around and made to rotate around the much larger mech, whipping out a blaster Starscream insisted he always carry out of his subspace and firing at Megazarak's face, hoping to blind him since the armor on his chassis would be too thick for the shots to make it through to his spark. His rotational trip ended when Megazarak took out his own weapon, a giant sword that was longer than Optimus was tall, and swung around to cut off the cable on Optimus' grappler. Optimus fell onto his pedes and had to shift into a defensive stand seconds later when Megazarak descended upon him, laying in on him as though he were fighting an equal in mass and brute strength. Optimus did his best to hold up, his smaller size actually helping as Megazarak had obviously been expecting a larger target, allowing Optimus to slip through his guard where bigger a bot, like Megatron for example, wouldn't have been able to.

"Hold still, you little scraplet!"

Said mech ignored the insult and engaged his wheels again, allowing himself more speed and the chance to distance himself enough from his opponent for Megazarak to activate his double cannons on his sword-free arm, aiming straight at Optimus' spark. The Head Strategist had been waiting for this opportunity and quickly raised his own forearm, too, activating the fire extinguisher and firing a nanosecond earlier than Megazarak. The bubbly foam instantly forcefully cooled the machinery, contradicting the heat of the building charge and electricity met the water, short-circuiting the mechanism of the weapon and even shocking Megazarak in the process. That had to have friend a few circuits.

Optimus was rather proud of himself when he saw that Megazarak couldn't move his left arm even as he found himself almost cleaved in half, bitting back a gasp of pain so hard energon leaked from a busted lip plate. "You will _pay_ for that, you peace of scrap!" He tried to separate himself from the blade as his opponent howled, but he couldn't get a good grip and he was dangling several mechanometers above the floor. Megazarak seemed to be taking great pleasure in watching him squirm and leak energon slowly to death and Optimus grit his dentae, activating the extending mod in his ax's shaft, allowing it to securely rest against the nearest hard surface - which just so happened to be a surprised Spittor's chestplates - and let it continue extending until it pushed him clean off of the giant blade. He only just missed getting his helm cut off by turning his ax so the underside of its blade met the sword when Megazarak tried to behead him at the given opportunity. "I will _not_ allow a discarded worthless Autobot sparkling to stand between me and _my_ army!"

"For the last time," the civilianframe ground out between clenched dentae as he forced himself, despite the searing pain in his side, to roll away from where the bigger mech tried to stomp him like a bug. "I am _not_ an Autobot!"

"You may have been raised amongst warframes, _grounder_," Megazarak spat, swinging down only for his sword to be stopped by the handle of a red energon ax. "But you are nothing but damaged goods, useless and discarded by your own people like trash. I wonder why Megatron even picked you up? Was it pity? Or did he see a useful tool? You have surely proven yourself to be one. Did you think you were one of _them_?" He gestured at the Decepticons with one servo, easily pinning Optimus in their lock under his sword with the other. "Why would they want a pathetic creature like _you_? You weren't good enough for your _own_ weakling people, why would the mightiest warriors in the universe want _you_ in their midst?" He laughed at the defiance he saw burning in Optimus optics. "Oh? You doubt me? If you're really so important to them, if you're _really_ one of them," he leaned closer, whispering in mock intimacy. "Then why don't you bear their brand?"

That hit harder than the almost lethal blow from earlier. Optimus felt his servo's buckle in a moment of doubt before redoubling his efforts to stay alive. He won't allow the Decepticons to fall into Megazarak's servos because of him. It was his turn to pay them back for all that they've done for him all these stellar cycles. He won't allow himself to fail!

"It's simple, really," Megazarsk continued talking, obviously loving the sound of his own voice. "Because you are _nothing_ and you _mean_ _nothing_ to them. You are just a tool they will discard when they're done with you. Megatron's quite good at that, betraying those who trusted him. I bet he'll even terminate you himself. Or maybe it's so beneath him he won't even notice you're gone."

Something snapped within Optimus and his optics flashed brighter, stunning Megazarak as his gears and pistons groaned under the strain as he started getting up, pushing the larger mech back with sheer strength alone, a strength he had not known himself to posses. By the time he managed to push Megazarak back, his whole right side was covered in his own energon and oil and coolant leaking from the giant cut in his side, he was unsteady on his pedes but his battlemask closed in place as his optics burned with determination. On shaky pedes, he charged at the still stunned giant of a mech, firing a grappler past and behind Megazarak, making the crowd there rush out of the way. The grappler hit the panel of the airlock and vacuum started sucking out the atmosphere. The Deceoticons immediately grabbed onto something and Megazarak fought to stay on his pedes, but Optimus slammed into him, lining them up right with the airlock, making them both thumble through. Optimus fired another grappler back into the ship to drag himself in and beat Megazarak off with a well placed slice of his ax at the larger mech's faceplates, making him howl in pain that was soon swallowed by the silence of space. The airlock closed seconds after Optimus was through and the pressure started returning to the cargo bay.

Optimus landed hard on the metal floor and lost consciousness before the pain could catch up to him.

00000

The Head Strategist woke up just breems after Strika returned from her mission, two solar cycles later, which found him staring at her battered appearance from where Hook had practically tied him to the medical berth to stop him from undoing all of his hard work in welding all of Optimus' severed parts back together for the past solar cycle and a half, staring at her blankly in a way no one had seen him look before. It hurt both Strika and Hook to see him so inured but it unnerved them for their questions and reports on the delayed attack on the Autobots to be met with absolute silence, blue optics staring at them but not seeing them. Shockwave had given the femme a detailed report on the fight and while Strika was proud of her little protégé, the whole Decepticon army worried about the reaction Optimus was having to Megazarak's words. Not knowing what to do, Strika hailed the Nemesis and all but demanded Megatron return to see Optimus.

Said mech was in a fritz the second he saw Optimus in the medbay, a huge cut healing across half of his chassis from the right side, and Hook had to threaten him with sedatives before the warlord was calm enough to go in and visit Optimus.

For the first time since the sparkling was brought aboard the Nemesis, Optimus didn't look at Megatron in happiness.

"How did I come to be here?" The question was all but demanded, lacking the usual undertones of respect Optimus always layered his glyphs with when talking to or of his primary caretaker from his sparkling groons. It stopped Megatron short on his way to possibly - very gently - embrace the younger mech and instead had him staring at him in confusion.

"Excuse me?" The Decepticon Lord asked in absence of any smarter response, looking back through the open door where Hook was keeping a close optic on his patient. Said CME could only shrug, not really meeting Megatron's optics. Optimus had not had a peaceful recharge while in medical stasis. He had mumbled some of his doubts and Hook had heard, his spark going out to the mech he had helped raise. But it was not his place to in any way be involved in this conversation. This was the first time Optimus had spoken since he woke up, so it was up to Megatron to deal with him.

"How did I come to be here?" Optimus repeated, a bit more heatedly this time, a frown slowly starting to develop on his faceplates. "Where do I come from? Why am I the only civilian amongst the Decepticons? Why am I even here? Why won't you let me wear your brand? What _am_ I to you?!" The last one was almost yelled and Hook looked up in surprise as well as worry. Optimus shouldn't be stressing himself. The welds were still settling in. The damage had been horrifying and Cyclonus had not been quiet about his opinion that it was only through Primus' will that the young bot had even survived. Hook, who had not thought of their Creator in thousands of stellar cycles, had to agree. It was a miracle that they had managed to save Optimus' life. He didn't want Optimus hurting himself all over again because he wouldn't fragging _hold still_.

Megatron slowly reset his optics at the red and blue mech, confused as to what brought on some of these questions and silently cursing Megazarak in his mind for bringing doubt in the young bot. Optimus had never been meant to find out where he was found. He would no doubt want to see the pod he'd been found in and investigate. Archa 7 was far too dangerous for that. Even the Decepticons had never bothered to go after the crashed ship with all of its lost energon. There was no way he was letting Optimus go there by himself, even if he hadn't just been nearly offlined.

"You know we found you on an organic planet in an escape pod. You always knew that and it had never bothered you before." Optimus looked away at that, a bitter slate to his lip plates and Megatron frowned. That hadn't been the reaction he had been expecting. "It was empty except for you and a name in the old dialect, which Cyclonus translated into Optimus. At first we thought that you were one of the survivors from a nearby crash-"

"But it was almost immediately obvious that I've been little more than trash discarded in a fancier can," Optimus interrupted with all that bitterness swelling in his vocals, coating his precise and elegant glyphs like a stain of space barnacles. Megatron's optics cycled wide at the declaration but before he could say anything, Optimus released a humorless chuckle. "That would explain why you never wanted to brand me. I wasn't good enough for the _Autobots_, why would I be for the Decepticons?"

"You know slagged well that the only reason I won't let you wear the brand is because it assures your safety if you were ever to encounter the Autobots!" The gray mech couldn't help but snarl, earning himself a glare from the grounder.

"Oh? I thought you'd be _eager_ to mark your _territory_?" Spending so much time around rather aggressive warframes had resulted in Optimus picking up some of their habits, including baring dentae in arguments. It didn't exactly fit with the civilianframe he was onlined in, but it didn't stop Optimus from doing it.

"You are _not_ my _territory_," Megatron spat and was surprised by the barely hidden flinch, causing him to pause and try to gather himself a little. "You are not a thing in order to be. You are a bot I care deeply about, one I could not bear to leave to those _disgusting_ eight-legged Insecticon-like organics to feast upon. You know very well that Decepticons are not the monsters the galaxy likes to make out of us. Is it really that surprising that we'd rescue a sparkling from certain death?"

Optimus stared at him with hard optics for a moment longer before slumping - how he did that with his back tied to a berth as it was, Megatron will never understand - and raising the servo of his uninjured side to cover his face. "I'm sorry. I just ... "

Megatron relaxed, coming closer and running a single digit along Optimus' cheek, careful not to touch the cracked plating in the side of his helm from where he had slammed into the floor upon closing the airlock after the fight. "It's alright. You've been through a lot. I'm sorry you had to deal with it in my place." That will be a source of guilt to rival that first time they'd found Optimus injured in that supply closet when they had overreacted about him interfering with Strika's strategy. This one will only be more insistent. Not only was the damage far worse, but Megatronwas practically directly at fault. He should have just killed Megazarak and been done with it.

The only good thing from this whole even is that Optimus has successfully laid his own claim on the Decepticons, just like Megatron and Strika often had to against the occasional fool who thought he could challenge gladiators of Kaon. The Emperor and the General of Destruction might just be getting a Lord in their midst.

"I'd do it again," Optimus replied, optics cycling lower and lower until he fell into exhausted recharge, his systems desperately needing it for his repairs.

Megatron just watched him with sad, adoring red optics, unwilling to leave his side for as long as he could get away with it before Hook chased him away to his own berth. "I wish you wouldn't." This time had nearly cost him his life and the thought brought out a reaction Megatron had not felt since he was a newly sparked protoform: fear. It terrified him, if he was honest, the thought of how fragile Optimus was in comparison to the rest of them. He had never felt fear before. Not like this.

He didn't know _what_ he'd do if Optimus offlined.


	6. Chapter 6

**Head Strategist**

**Summary: A sparkling discarded by its own people becomes one of the most powerful mechs in the universe, much to the shock of those who had thrown him away. Primus watches out for his children, no matter where they end up. And this discarded sparlking has the power to bring peace to a war that has been raging for eons. He only needs to survive.**

His conversation with Megatron had bore more fruit than the Decepticon Lord thought. Optimus didn't need him to tell him in name the planet they'd found him on. Megatron had unknowingly dropped enough hints in his anger for Optimus to be able to figure it out on his own.

Archa 7. A hostile organic planet. Its only habitants a big arachnid-like organic species that feasted on any type of living organism, be they flesh or metal, organic or cybernetic. A world strictly off limits for Autobots and avoided by the smarter Decepticons. The only way anyone would end up on Archa 7 was if they crash landed there, unless they are crazy or suicidal. Around one thousand two hundred and six stellar cycles ago, a Decepticon warship with nine passengers unexpectedly crashed onto the planet, only four surviving. Those four were Blackout, Strika, Cyclonus and Megatron. The ship was irreparable and the crash site was deemed too dangerous for retrieval missions of the lost energon because the spiders got to the five gray bodies and made a nest in the ship. Only two scouts from that party survived.

The first four brought back a sparkling.

_'Me,'_ Optimus thought as he read the data he had accessed as soon as he was allowed to leave the medbay, three whole groons after his fight with Megazarak. It had not been an easy recovery. The placement and extent of his wounds made it dificult to even refuel. He could only take low grade for four decacycles until his tanks' repairs were stable enough to handle the only slightly richer medical grade. Mid grade had never tasted so good as it did now as he sipped it while he worked. _'They brought me back after Megatron and Cyclonus fought off an entire horde of these things.'_ He shuddered just from looking at the pictures of the ingenious lifeforms of Archa 7. Even as he was now, minus the injury, just one of these sliders could probably feast on him as though he were still that helpless sparkling that the Decepticons brought home.

_'Home.'_ Home had always been the Nemesis. Home was Megatron. Home was Cyclonus and Strika and Starscream and Lugnut and Blitzwing and Blackout. Home was Hook and Scalpel and Knock Out and Oil Slick and Magnificus and Spittor and even Mindwipe, when he wasn't being a spikesheat that's trying to hypnotize you. You'd think he'd learned his lesson after Scalpel had to put him back together from scratch after he tried being wise and gave it a go with Megatron. Home was the fleet, the Peaceful Tyranny, the bridge, the battle plans under his digits. Home was red optics and purple badges, hulking mechs with clawed digits and dimly lit halls.

Home was a Cybertron where he can live with his strange adopted family that had taken him in despite being the obvious progeny of the opposing faction.

He had never considered any other place home.

He had never considered leaving home.

But Optimus knew he would have to, if he wished to learn how and why a helpless little sparkling, no older than a solar cycle or two, ended up on a planet of death no matter what race you belong to. He'd have to leave all he'd ever known behind if he wanted to find out who he really was, why he bore a name from an age all but forgotten and why anyone would even bother with his name if he was to be discarded. It was the only way he'd learn why his processor was a mix between an archivist model and a warframe processor. If he wanted to learn where he came from, if he had any energon-related family or how he had somehow managed to push back a warbuild mech at least thrice his mass despite near fatal injuries, he'd have to go to Cybertron. To Iacon. To the Hall of Records, the Grand Archives that housed millions of vorns of knowledge in its Grid, on its datapads and datachips. The type and origin of knowledge did not matter to the Grid. If Optimus had ever existed on Cybertron - which he had to, since _all_ Cybertronians onlined in Vector Sigma - then there will be some trace of him to be found in the Archives.

The problem was getting to that knowledge.

There was no way any of his former caretakers - he was a grown mech by now, they _seriously_ needed to stop fretting over him so much - would let him go to Cybertron to get the information he wanted and none of their spies on Cybertron were expandable to just let them sacrifice their position in order to search for information that might not even be there, as the possibility it might have been erased from official or at least public records was very high. Optimus would have the best chances at getting in, getting the information he wanted and getting out. He had a processor that could handle accessing the Grid, which will speed up the search, instead of manually researching the data archives through a station. He was an actual civilianframe grounder and he didn't have a faction symbol, something he was grateful for only this one time in his life cycle. He won't be emitting any signal than his own biosignal from his spark. He could easily pass as a civilian doing some light reading or something, as long as he avoids the Elite Guard or the enforcers.

The problem was sneaking out and getting to Cybertron. Optimus crossed his servos carefully as he thought about his options. Megatron had already planned his departure in two solar cycles from now, which meant Optimus won't have him venting down his neck cables, but there were still plenty of bots who would be keeping an optic on him. Avoiding Cyclonus will be the hardest. Optimus swore that mech might be a cyberninja if he didn't know that particular 'cult' had started millions of stellar cycles after Cyclonus was onlined. Yet Optimus had a feeling Cyclonus won't try to stop him. He always felt like Cyclonus knew more about him than anyone, but he also knew the horned mech won't be spilling any of his secrets any time soon, so Optimus didn't even bother. His answers awaited in the Archives. Besides Cyclonus, Shockwave was the next threat to his plan. The mech was very competent at his job as the Head of Intelligence and getting around him long enough to leave the ship will be a test of Optimus' strategic skill the likes of which only Megatron and Strika could usually present. If he could create a distraction long enough to nab one of the smaller transports, he could make it to the closest planet and buy a different vessel to take to Cybertron. A plan was already brewing and Optimus opened a new program to write it all down and do the proper statistic analyses and calculations even as he brought up a search program about the nearby planets. It's always easier to have a program search on astral maps than waste the time yourself if you have other things to be doing.

Like studying a virtual walk through the streets of Iacon. He had to familiarize himself with the layout to not look too much like a tourist and attract unwanted attention. He wished he had the patrol routes and shifts of the enforcers, but they hadn't been able to successfully implant a spy in Iacon so far. If nothing else, his little trip might even help Shockwave in his job, too, if downright sabotage isn't possible due to the time he'll have to practically hack into the Grid and search as covertly as he can before he's discovered. There were no images of the inside of the Hall of Records, which made sense as it wasn't exactly a free-for-all type of library. He'll have to sneak in and hope there were no access cards or things like that regarding security.

Running from Cybertron won't be easy, either. First of all, he'll have to get back to his 100%, which will take a few more decacycles. That should be enough time for Optimus to purchase a ship on one of the nearby planets and set his great escape into motion. Distracting Strika won't be hard. They were approaching a sector with twelve different mining posts that would both inconvenience the Autobots to lose and benefit the Decepticons greatly to gain. She'll be pouring over Intelligence reports for solar cycles until she's ready to even start thinking up a strategy and the schedule of attack of each mining post. Optimus has time in advance to think up some strategies and give them to her for consideration since he was stuck as a consultant until he's fully healed. Keeping Strika busy will be easy without him taking an active role in the upcoming campaign. He'll have to make sure to divide Shockwave's attention between gathering intel for that same campaign as well as a distraction that will be harmless for the Decepticons. A false alarm. A stuck door. A malfunctioning elevator. A misplaced, hardly relevant datapad. Any of those will work. For being made to wage war in the most effective way possible, Decepticons easily get confused/frustrated/exasperated/annoyed/furious/distracted if something isn't preforming at optimal capacity. They can get so easily disorganized that Optimus didn't think it could ever be found funny. They'd focus so completely on that tiny problem until it was solved that they often forgot about the bigger picture. The soldiers did, at least. The commanders and generals forced themselves to be attentive no matter what. He felt bad about it, but he needed to take advantage of that. The soldiers will bombard Shockwave with useless problems, which should allow Optimus to slip under his radar. All he needed to do to mask a ship leaving is to shot-circuit one of the hangar's airlocks and shift a security camera into a different direction or put a holopic in front of it. Then he'd have to hit the pedal to the metal and hope no one comes looking for him for at least a joor.

He has no doubt Strika would send the entire fleet after him if she heard he'd ran away.

Optimus smiled at the thought, even as he opened more and more programs he usually only utilized for strategy-making purposes, carefully planning his trip and even preparing himself for the verbal lashing he'll get when he comes back.

(It never occurred to him that he might have just jinxed himself.)

00000

The first few solar cycles, Optimus locked himself in his room like a mechling throwing a legendary sulk - which he partially was, if he was honest with himself - though in truth he was downloading any files not already in his memory banks into his processor because he knew he couldn't take such valuable information with him in physical form and was reluctant to leave without it. He spent joors planning every aspect of his plan before finally leaving his room and interacting with the Decepticons again, acting like he was trying to pretend nothing was wrong. Those early lessons with Shockwave in deception and acting were really paying off, as everyone seemed to buy it and just did their best not to make the situation awkward. They were failing, as they all treated him like he was made of glass and that annoyed him, but he did his best not to react to it.

That first decacycle, he whined about not being on active duty, tried deliberately to do stressful or straining things just to get berated by any of the three medics refusing to leave the Empirion until he was fully healed - you can just _imagine_ the sort of tension currently festering in the medbay - and often got publicly frustrated - meaning he grumbled out loud instead of counting down from one thousand - with his slow recovery and how it was driving him stir-crazy to have nothing to do. He made sure as many bots saw him reading the _same_ datapads over and over again to paint the picture of perfect desperation for something to do until he finally approached his usual sparring partners for a training session because he was 'feeling much better now'. That, of course, got him an audialfull from Hook as the large, lime green bot all but hauled him to the medbay for a good glossa-lashing, where Optimus took his chance to take his 'frustrations' out on the CME before sheepishly apologizing for raising his voice and complaining about his processor rotting from boredom. Then, he acted like he got a brilliant idea and asked Hook to teach him medicine. The medic took it hook, line and sinker when Optimus explained it was the only field no one had bothered to properly teach him beyond standard first aid repair kits and such. He felt bad about deceiving his primary medic for as long as he had been alive - or at least for as long as he remembered - bit it was necessary.

Optimus _had_ to learn where he came from. He felt it down to his very spark that it was _important_. He just somehow _knew_ that there was something or maybe even some_one_ on Cybertron waiting for him and he wanted to find out if his gut feeling was correct.

Since he couldn't train or work, his schedule cleared up a great deal, allowing for more lessons with Hook than the medic had the time for, so Optimus naturally went to his gestalt brothers. Not exactly engineers, but the Constructicons were still the best builders on Cybertron. Structural integrity might become an issue in his escape from Cybertron, if he even makes it that far. Some interesting conversations with Oil Slick and some other bots had him knowledgeable enough about chemistry and engines and flight systems for him to move on to phase two: confusing Shockwave. And that started with asking him for lessons in espionage. That's a skill he'll _definitely_ need polished up on once he gets to Cybertron. He could only get through the lessons in theory, since practice would aggravate his wounds, but thankfully Optimus had a good processor and would remember everything. Then he started slowly creating the extra work for Strika and Shockwave as he contacted Swindle and started bartering for a nondescript, low profile space vessel, big enough for one bot. Swindle didn't dare try to rip him off lest Megatron rip _him_ apart, or the DJD for that matter.

Optimus prepared a small but fast ship in the Emperion's hanger bay before sending it off to the Victory to wait for him. No one questioned his orders and Strika and Shockwave didn't even notice the transfer. A few solar cycles later, he got a confirmation that his new ship was on the planet he and Swindle agreed on and then he fried the circuits on the airlock of the Victory one day, putting in a device to mess with the system. It kept sending false alarms at Optimus' comm signals that it was open when it was in fact closed and no matter what the repair crew did to fix it, Optimus kept messing it up. Without opening the walls to see the circuitry inside, they won't be able to determine that everything was in perfect order and that someone was actually _deliberately_ messing with the wires for their own purposes. Optimus was discrete with it, of course, and didn't set off the alarm too often as to be annoying so someone _had_ to fix it, structural integrity of the ship before a battle be damned. Slowly, but surely, his plan was falling into place until one day he said he wanted to visit the Victory and then set a whole pit of an annoying mess into motion on the Empirion as he whooped in joy at his clever escape as the alarm was ignored on the Victory, as was the norm.

He put the pedal to the metal and was descending to the planet when the others finally realized something was missing. Or rather, some_one_. To be precise, _Optimus_ was. He could only smile at them as he opened a three way transmission with Strika and Shockwave on one line and the immediately notified Megatron on the other.

"Optimus," growled the Decepticon warlord as soon as the connection was set up. "What do you think you're doing? Get back to the fleet at once!"

"Sorry, no can do. I only had fuel for one trip," Optimus replied even as he began the landing procedures.

"This isn't a game, youngling." It was Strika's turn to growl, Shockwave just observing for now. Probably tracking him either through the comm system or the ship's beacon signal, which Optimus had not turned off because he intended to return the ship to the Decepticons from the beginning.

"No, it's a matter of my identity and existence and I plan on figuring it out." The Emperor and General of Destruction fell silent at that, staring at Optimus with expressions he couldn't quite read. "I need to do this, guys. I have to find out where I come from, why I was there in the first place. I promise I'm not going to Archa 7. You should know me better than that! I _am _your best strategist, after all ... "

"Were we not enough?" The question was angry, desperate, betrayed and, most of all, hurt and Optimus' spark clenched in an unbearable pain at the honesty behind it that Megatron had most assuredly not meant to put in.

"Even if I'm no longer welcome back. I'll always be Optimus of the Decepticons," he reassured, optics locking with Megatron's through the screen. He had to assure them of this, if nothing else. "There's no place I'd rather be than back on the Nemesis, with all of you, conquering the universe one step at a time. But I _need _to do this." Unconsciously, a servo drifted up to his chestplates, resting right over his spark as his optics lost focus for a few kliks. "I feel it in my spark ... I need to go to Cybertron. I _have _to find out why I was thrown away. Why I was abandoned."

"You weren't," the warlord was quick to growl and Optimus smiled at his primary caretaker of his sparkling days.

"Maybe not by you, never by you, but someone else has done it to me. I need to know why. Please understand," he all but pleaded, hoping they will get the urgency in his spark. "I feel like I can never be content if I don't find out. Besides," he changed the topic with a cheery tone before anyone could comment. "This will help us to later infiltrate Iacon for espionage! We need to get closer to the Elite Guard if we want to finally take them down. A little reckon will do the trick."

There was a heavy pause from the three, five red optics regarding him thoughtfully before Strika finally sighed and gave in. "Fine. But you be careful out there. And you come back as soon as you're done. If you're not back in a groon, I'm invading Cybertron just to avenge you."

"You know we don't have the resources to do that yet, Strika," he admonished but the femme just huffed.

"I'll find a way to fill in the troops."

Optimus frowned at that and crossed his servos over his chestplates. "We stay in contact at all times. That way, you don't have an excuse to let the cyberhounds out without my explicit permission to involve the Peaceful Tyranny and its crew."

"I don't think DJD will wait for permission to get their commander back. Or for orders," Shockwave spoke up for the first time, making the other two Decepticons snort and Optimus groan at the truth behind his words. They'd even make a competition out of who'll get to Optimus faster. Not a pleasant thought for Cybertron. Optimus kind of wanted there to be a planet left for when the Decepticons are to return. "I take it you have all of this planned well and that there's nothing we can say or do to change your mind?"

"I've been planning since I woke up after my duel with Megazarak and if you come and force me back, I'll just find a more outlandish way to escape again. I'm your best strategist," he gave them a not so pleasant smile. "I don't think there's much you can do to keep me for long if I don't want to stay and it's all your slagged fault. You only have yourselves to blame."

"Yes, we did teach you too well," the Head of Intelligence said with a touch of amusement. "Just be sure to use those skills we all taught you and stay alive."

"Do you doubt me?"

"You've not lost a battle yet." Optimus spark warmed at that before looking to his mentor, who grumbled under her intake curses in the Kaonian dialect she purposefully never taught Optimus so that the Decepticons actually have a way to curse around their youngest unofficial member.

"You never turn off your comm," the femme said as a way of relenting and Optimus beamed at her before turning to look at Megatron hopefully. The gray warlord's facepaltes had a dark look to them and Optimus' spark dropped a little, both at causing him this conflict - it would go against his ideology to deny Optimus the freedom to learn about himself and it went against his spark's wishes to have Optimus so far from those whom he knows will protect him with their sparks - and at the thought that Megatron might deny him but then Megatron schooled his expression into careful, blank neutrality.

"I hope you find what you're looking for and return to us with content in your spark."

Optimus' spark burst with affection and excitement, just in time for his ship to land. He could see the ship he'd bought from Swindle not far away and knew this conversation will have to end. His new ship was meant for stealth and it didn't have the Decepticons' comm frequencies. He looked back towards three of his caretakers and smiled.

"I'll be home soon."

He couldn't have said better words to calm their sparks if he had wanted to.


	7. Chapter 7

**Head Strategist**

**Summary: A sparkling discarded by its own people becomes one of the most powerful mechs in the universe, much to the shock of those who had thrown him away. Primus watches out for his children, no matter where they end up. And this discarded sparlking has the power to bring peace to a war that has been raging for eons. He only needs to survive.**

Optimus wondered if he had just ruined his life and everything he had loved and worked hard for as he gazed down at the red frowning face of Prima on his shoulder, despair taking his spark. This couldn't be happening. It was a nightmare. It _had _to be. How else could he explain that he was now made an enemy of his family? Autobot blue optics couldn't even glare at the mech that had placed this coding-changing badge on him, too busy was he mourning what he had just lost.

Getting to Cybertron was ridiculously easy, despite the frequent patrols the Autobots had in place withing the Autobot Commonwealth's territory. Optimus had taken the long way around, extending his trip by three solar cycles to give himself more time to heal, as some of the welds were only now starting to take on the color of his plating, the last of the repairs finally taking hold. No one stopped him to check for identification, no one scanned his little ship for weaponry and nothing hindered his approach to the very heart of their enemy's territory. Optimus kept a long distance comm frequency open and chatted with Strika on a secure channel about the battle plans he left for her, sometimes getting info from Shockwave about the changes going on behind enemy borders so he knows what to avoid, but he never got more than a questioning ping from Megatron, demanding he confirm he was okay and alive. It hurt a little to think Megatron didn't want to talk to him, but he knew the warlord only didn't want to distract him when he was behind the enemy lines, or at least he hoped so.

He'd rather not keep getting the cold shoulder from the mech that had his spark for the rest of his function. Not seeing him every solar cycle was hard enough.

Landing in Iacon was almost as easy. His ship was of Camian origin, which meant that it had access to planet-side ship docks on Cybertron without the need of asking permission first or announcing his presence. He landed his ship just outside of the city and drove from there, consulting the maps he'd saved in his memory drives as he went. He stuck to the speed limits like a good little Autobot, trying not to look as uncomfortable as he felt to be around so many bots so much smaller than him or even his size or just slightly larger than him. He wans't used to being the tallest person in the room. Amongst the Decepticons, if there was a servo-full of mecha his size or smaller, not counting Scalpel, in the same room as him, it would be a miracle. He didn't like it. Most would find it reassuring to be amongst bots of their own kind, but not Optimus. The bright colors, blue optics and the obnoxiously loud chatter made his spark anxious for the relatively quiet dimply lit halls of the Nemesis or the Empirion.

He'd never seen so many civilianframes in one place if he wasn't meant to direct troops to blast them to the Pit and back. It kept him on edge and wouldn't let him completely turn off his battle protocols. He kept his field tight to his protoform not to give himself away.

He couldn't say Iacon wasn't beautiful and not lie. It was a very beautiful city, much more magnificent than any Cybertronian or alien city he'd seen so far and the holopics he'd studied didn't do it justice. If he wasn't on a self-assigned mission, he would have gladly explored all it had to offer, but right now all he focused on was the Iacon Hall of Records, the oldest building on Cybertron and, in his optics - as a scholar, in a sense - it was the most beautiful one as well. He'd manged to make his way towards it with just as much ease as everything else and transformed right in front of the steps leading up to it.

That's when things started going downhill.

In alt mode, no one paid Optimus a second glance, just another random passerby as far as anyone was concerned. But now, in root mode, he caught the optic of quite a few bots, mechs and femmes alike. Autobot fashion leaned towards flashy, sometimes stylishly so, other times not so much, unlike the more utilitarian designs the Decepticons had, in both frame models and coloration. Optimus didn't quite fit either criteria, no matter that he was a civilian in origin. His flame-like design on his plating drew attention, for no one had such outlandish decorations on their frame. He'd been onlined with it, though it only became obvious as he grew in size and developed. No artist could replicate it quite so well. It caused mecha to stare at this stranger whose frame was almost archaic Iaconian in design but whose finish could land him in Polyhex, Tyger Pax or even Praxus, if only he had the door wings for it. Finials are not a detail many mecha have and are quite rare. They were once considered marks of nobility and royalty, of the higher class mecha, who all had that upgrade to look more regal.

In short, by some sick twist of irony, Optimus stood out more amongst his own frametype than the warframe Decepticons. Go figure.

He wouldn't have cared a scraplet's aft about it had he been able to make it past the first two steps up towards the Archives before two mechs came to hit on him, looking for a good time. When they wouldn't leave him alone no matter how many times he turned them down, Optimus flattened them both to the ground with a couple of moves taught to him by Cyclonus. Unfortunately, the two rude mechs were training for the Elite Guard and their fellow cadets came to their aid. Seven against one wasn't a fair fight. Optimus felt sorry for them when they all ended up groaning on the ground with dents and scratches and one broken servo from a mech that couldn't keep his servos to himself even in the middle of a fight. He just hated himself for not noticing two enforcers coming up behind him with stun guns and electricity prods because one moment he was muttering to himself in the ancient dialect Cyclonus had taught him a bit and the next everything went black.

He came online to none other than Ultra Magnus, the Supreme Commander of the Elite Guard and leader of Cybertron himself, looking down at him where he was held in stasis cuffs at maximum power between two Elite Guard mechs, commenting on his skill. "To have evaded us for this long ... And to have so easily beaten those cadets all on your own ... You will make a marvelous addition to the military and make your fellow Autobots proud." And without further ado, the badge was slapped onto his left shoulder, his coding being changed to fit the Autobot mold and no one cared how much it hurt. Optimus, though, knew the Decepticon brand would hurt a lot more and he had been preparing for that his whole life in hopes of Megatron one day officially making him a Decepticon, so he only grit his dentae and glared through flashing optics at the Autobots around him. "With you skill, you should show yourself good in the Academy, Cadet 13-"

"My _name_," the red and blue mech had ground out even as the royal blue left his optics only to be replaced with a lighter, almost sky blue color. The pain stopped. "Is _Optimus_."

But the Head Strategist of the Decepticons was gone. Lord Optimus had been a neutral his whole life. His optics were royal blue, not even close to the standard blue shade all Autobots shared. He was always armed to the dentae, with both datapads and various weaponry. His plating shone as brightly as the stars due to Knock Out's fascination with his finish. He had flame designs of his two colors clashing around his forearms and pedes. He was quite possibly the second most important person in the Decepticon army and he took orders from no one, not even Megatron if he disagreed with him. He was the Head Strategist, the supposed heir of the Decepticon Empire should anything happen to its Emperor of Destruction. He was _free_.

Lord Optimus had never worn a faction symbol. Megatron had made sure of that. He could be anything he wanted to be.

"Very well then, _Cadet Optimus_," Ultra Magnus said, magnanimously letting the young bot keep his name, a name whose origins he had been hoping to find and now wished he had never set pede to his own home planet. Here, he wore the simplified red face of Prima, he was an Autobot against his will, his optics were still adjusting to the new parameters the lighter shade of blue changed, he had left all datapads back on the Empirion and all his weapons, even his ax, had been taken away from him. His plating was scuffed and scratched and dirty and someone had taken a nanite paint to his colors, erasing the intertwining of red and blue flames, leaving behind sharp, plain lines befitting an Autobot's ideal officer image. Here, he was nothing and no one. He had nothing to his name, he was just another soldier, another grunt, _cannon fodder_ that had almost lost the only name he had ever known.

He was caged. More effectively than a seeker whose wings had been thorn off.

"Welcome to the Autobots."

And, for the first time ever, he was _utterly alone_.

00000

He was a rather popular topic amongst his 'fellow cadets'. By now, everyone had heard the rumor of his 'discovery'. They all thought him to be 'a lost protoform' from the last batch of sparks before they started collecting extra sparks to make future generations just before the AllSpark was thrown through a random space bridge and they thought he had been 'keeping a low profile' to avoid joining the army as an act of 'newspark rebellion' and that he was now finally 'home'. Of course, protoforms disappearing wasn't exactly news to Optimus. Decepticons had thousands of reports regarding the ingoing theft war between the two factions for the basic life-building metal alloys, only Autobots always declared themselves the 'heroes' that 'saved' those 'poor, poor' protoforms from being 'kidnapped' and 'turned' into weapons of mass destruction.

Most of the time, Optimus had a really hard time not snorting at every word that came out of his drill Sargent's intake. But then Optimus advanced within the first solar cycle because he was apparently 'gifted' and could pass the training course with ease - what would one expect? He's been trained by Cybertronian warframes for any situation since he was only _two stellar cycles old_! - and he met Kup Minor. Within the first joor of listening to the old mech instruct the young bots - most of them barely three hundred stellar cycles old but all sparked, unlike how Optimus came to be, whatever that might be since he only knew he grew up instead of being placed into a physically mature protoform like these guys were - Optimus found that he might be the one Autobot he could learn to respect. He was kind but strict, fair but expected hard work and he knew how to teach. He gave names to the other bots that actually fit them beyond what first impression might suggest and that alone earned him Optimus' consideration. The Autobots had remained using the rather functionist system of naming new recruits _after_ they displayed their usefulness in battle. It made Optimus' tanks churn. He'd read about the functionist regime and the Senate that reinforced it.

Optimus was, of course, his best cadet. Despite never having actually been taught how to be a soldier or ordered around while with the Decepticons, Optimus did know how to take orders. He was just a bit more liberal with them. He got the job done, most often a lot better when doing things his way, and at least Kup found it amusing to watch him dismantle a grenade while hanging upside down with a dummy 'injured comrade' secured and being lowered down from the height of a three story building. The cadets were quite divided in their opinions if Optimus. Some admired him, others openly hated him, some bots tried to be fake friendly with him for popularity, there was that one group that had wanted to 'teach him his place' for 'showing off' so much but ended up in the infarmy for their efforts, a few envied him and plenty of them wanted to be like him or study/train with him. Optimus didn't try to make friends. All his friends had red optics and purple brands. He didn't belong among these naive _mechlings_. He belonged amongst hulking, experienced warframes who knew how to handle a blaster. He was somewhat cold towards them. Oh, he could work together with them in any unit formation Kup could think up of, but that didn't mean he spent any of his free time with them. He preferred going to the library on the training grounds so he can snort through - yes, you read that right. It's not a mistake - the datapads available. The only reason he wasn't trying to fail the bootcamp program was because he can't leave the training compound until he passes through the training. Security is tight and his new badge was equipped with a tracker. He wouldn't be able to hide for long. He didn't try to fit in - he never will nor could he ever even if he wanted to - he didn't make friends, he didn't get into fights, he got the perfect scores in everything and he kept to himself.

He'll have to give it to that yellow femme, Elita One, though. She was persistent. She had zeroed in on him and refused to give up even when he gave her the cold shoulder. The only reason he even singled her out was because she did her best to keep up with him no matter the training exercise. She had realized he valued competence and she did her best for him to recognize her as such. He was still leagues above her, but she put in a decent effort and Optimus at times reluctantly found himself giving her pointers and then ignoring her happy grin or the smile that threatened to twitch at his lip plates at such excitement over a small peace of advice. He wondered if that was how he looked in Megatron's optics but shook that thought away as soon as it manifested.

Thankfully, the Autobots never discovered his secure line to the Decepticons. It had taken him joors to calm his mentor and primary caretaker down enough to stop them from marching on Cybertron as they speak. Taking those twelve mines was Strika's priority. A good third of Autobot resources came from them, from weaponry to energon to oil to transparysteel glass and other construction materials. He didn't have much time to talk to them so it was mostly just once a solar cycle ping to assure them that he was indeed still alive. He couldn't risk comm talks as there was no privacy in the cadet barracs and there were random inspections at any given time, even when they were asleep after a tiring - for the other cadets - light cycle of nonestop training. They were sometimes even conducted by Ultra Magnus himself. The Supreme Commander always lingered on Optimus, but the 'cadet' never paid him a klik of attention. He had by now even learned the sound of his gait so he can avoid him if the white and dark blue Autobot comes to the training compound. His 'fellow cadets' always envied him for the attention of 'such a war hero'. Those who didn't admire him were often found saying he was arrogant for not showing the Magnus the proper respect.

They didn't know the meaning of the word 'respect'. Decepticons were run on _respect_. Megatron ruled by _respect_. Optimus had been obeyed due to _respect_, respect of mechs at the very least twice his mass and ten times his age with enough weaponry to level cities on their own if they put their processor to it. He knew _respect_. These bots 'respected' their superiors because they didn't know any differently. They knew nothing else.

At least he got rid of them when he finally finished the bootcamp training, though he hated that he was instantly led to Fortress Maximus and the Academy adjoined to it, as if the Autobots knew he'd make a run for it the second he was out of security's immediate reach. Well, they weren't wrong but Optimus still hated the treatment. From one cage into another, he was once again a prisoner of the enemy, even if said enemy was unaware that they housed the greatest bane of their existence of the last several hundred stellar cycles.

He got a room of his own in the Academy. Bare and utilitarian, it was the closest Optimus came to _home_ since he left the Decepticon fleet in Strika's more than capable servos, but before he could enjoy his freedom, he checked it for bugs and found, all in all, nine of them. They were all held up to faceplate level and crushed one by one with a challenging stare into their little cameras. After engaging a throughout scan of his new room, Optimus took out a miniature scrambler - the Autobots _really_ needed to learn how to better check their prisoners for hidden devices, though this one had been planted under his fuel tank - barely the size of a chip and placed it on the ceiling, watching as its cloaking algorithm made it blend in before it activated. Now his room was practically soundproof, as it absorbed any sound in the room before it could echo or leave it, his calls can't be tracked and any bugs or other spying techniques will be useless against the signals it was throwing out. Thank you, Shockwave, for creating the single most useful multipurpose spying and infiltration device in the universe.

It was Optimus' first taste of freedom to be able to call Strika, Cyclonus, Shockwave and _Megatron_ and hear their voices out loud for the first time in three groons. They were as relieved to hear from him as he was them. None of the five of them were happy that Optimus' only ticket off the planet was to become an active Autobot soldier and be sent on the frontlines. The Deceoticons frontliners could pick him up from there and haul him home. They all wanted Optimus back where he belonged - at the bridge if a command ship, leading Decepticons to victory after victory. The campaign on the twelve mines was going slow with Optimus' limited input these past three groons. Battles that would have lasted a solar cycle or two stretched to a couple of decacycles, more injured returned. Some did not at all. Some were captured and hauled back to Cybertron, to Trypticon in Kaon.

Optimus wouldn't stop apologizing until Strika snapped at him that it wasn't his fault, but her's for growing rusty because she relied on him so much these stellar cycles. They ended that first call late into the night, when Optimus fell into recharge to the sound of their voices bickering over some politics like when he had been just a sparkling in Megatron's giant black hand.

The early light cycle found him entering the Hall of Records for the first time, marveling at its architecture and the millions of shelves with datapads his optics couldn't even track. His new classes won't start until the next light cycle, so he spent the day exploring the Archives. He didn't read anything, he didn't research. He just walked around and learned the layout of the huge place. The archivists all shot him curious or disdainful glances, all small, sleek models glaring at his much larger frame. He could practically feel them placing them in a cast in their processors and rolled his optics. He could just _imagine_ how pampered bots like these with a sure, secure place in society acted towards his warframe friends. In a time of peace, what good is a warframe? They were volatile and violent and dangerous with no self control and an impulse to cause destruction. Or so said the propaganda from the beginning of the war. Oh, Optimus knew damn well that the Deceoticons were only 'cuddly' with him and that they could all be real monsters when the wanted to be or were provoked. He knew the Autobots weren't the only ones who were rather unethical in the Great War. Megatron had never shied away from showing Optimus the cruelty they were all capable of.

The Autobots tried to gloss over their own faults almost desperately. So desperately that they fell back on using functionist propaganda, if only worded a bit differently.

Optimus feared he might start losing IQ points if he stayed too long.

He got a respite from his old 'fellow cadets' for a while, though the new group wasn't any better. Then, after two groons of studying 'history' and various other subjects - most of which he had been done with by the time he was a hundred stellar cycles old at most - he one early light cycle found Elita One sitting in the usually empty spot beside his, a beam on her dermas when she saw him. On her other side was a pompous looking blue and orange mech with the _biggest_ chin Optimus had ever seen in proportion to the rest of him, looking down his nasal ridge at the Head Strategist as he debated the levels of the oncoming helmache if he sat down with them. In the end, the entrance of their tutor decided for him and he reluctantly sat beside the pleased yellow femme. The brush of her EM field was friendly and welcoming and quite a bit smug. Optimus didn't need anything else to deduce that she had planned this.

"Well played."

Elita One just smiled brighter at the subtle dip of his helm. "I thought you might appreciate the effort I've put into it."

Optimus snorted and the tutor glared at him, looking back to his notes to see what could have caused this reaction _this_ time - it happened a lot more often than Optimus was comfortable with. He was practically sitting here and listening to propaganda! He would know, he sat through lessons the complete opposite of this when he was a youngling. Elita One looked between the tutor and Optimus before she was jabbed by her big-chinned classmate's elbow and a jerk of that impressive chin. She rolled her optics at him and purposefully leaned closer to the older mech. Amused, Optimus did the same, whispering low enough so only she and her companion will hear. "Who's your friend?"

The femme actually looked a little disappointed at the lack of 'new' in front of friend, as though she already considered Optimus a friend despite them exchanging ten sentences at most. Still, it didn't keep her down as she pointed at the haughty mech diligently trying to take notes and failing miserably as half of his attention was on the two beside him and the other half couldn't make heads or tails of what the tutor was saying. Optimus thought he'd make a poor commander if he can't divide his attention on two things when a battle would demand it a thousandfold. "Optimus, this is Sentinel. Sentinel, Optimus."

Giving up on the notes, Sentinel turned to measure Optimus up and gave a scoff as if he found him wanting. "_You're_ that new guy everyone's yammering about? You don't look like anything special."

Optimus snorted again and the tutor twitched, his servo tightening on the datapad holding his notes almost hard enough to crack it. "That's because I don't have your chin." Elita guffawed as Sentinel sputtered and the tutor glared death at them. Optimus just smiled. "Excuse me, but the date on the board is wrong. Altihex fell three hundred fifty two stellar cycles earlier and it was because of a plague spread through the energon, _not_ a Cosmic Rust infection. Cosmic Rust is a byproduct of the Golden Age functionist and caste regimes when the Senate reduced energon rations to such low quantities that the immune system of all lower and some middle caste mecha were nonexistent and the sickness spread due to malnutrition. It didn't exist in the Era of Primes."

"I'm sorry, Cadet Optimus," the mech finally spat with vitriol, making the cadets in the first row flinch back. "But maybe _you_ would like to teach the class from now on?"

"I think that must be the best idea you've ever had since you decided to apply for this job, as they might actually learn something."

Elita and Sentinel were thrown out along with him because of how hard they were snickering as the tutor screamed his vents out at them while the rest of the class were trying not to join in.

It was the start of a beautiful friendship and the beginning of his end.


	8. Chapter 8

**Head Strategist**

**Summary: A sparkling discarded by its own people becomes one of the most powerful mechs in the universe, much to the shock of those who had thrown him away. Primus watches out for his children, no matter where they end up. And this discarded sparlking has the power to bring peace to a war that has been raging for eons. He only needs to survive.**

After the tutor invited them back into the classroom five breems later because he had managed to break his datapad in his earlier fit of rage and he didn't have enough notes on his memory drive to finish the lesson and Optimus _did_, Elita tended to tag along after him and with her came Sentinel. Optimus tried to shake them off, but even if he managed for a while, people knew the places he preferred to go and the two always found him. Optimus honestly didn't know what to make of them. They were both so young and naive and they were supposed to be his _enemies_. Not trail after him like abandoned cyberhound puppies after a potential new owner.

Worst still, as time passed, they started to ... grow on him. Some of the things Elita did to draw his attention away from the latest datapad he was studying - the only good thing about being stuck on Cybertron in the Academy was that he had unlimited access to their library and to the Hall of Records, except at night, which is quite a bummer - were downright endearing and he couldn't always fight off the fond or amused twitch of his lip plates. It went against his nature to be mean towards someone who so genuinely liked him and wanted to be his friend. Elita was slowly but surely wearing him down until he finally addressed her as a friend one day, a stellar cycle since he'd met her. Her squeals of happiness warmed his spark but he refused to tell Strika, Cyclonus or Megatron what caused such a happy grin on his face that evening.

Sentinel ... He really wasn't sure about him. The younger mech had a real potential for good if only he'd get his helm out of his own aft first. The bot could be so mean and rude without batting an optic, carelessly insulting people left and right. Optimus might not interact with his 'fellow cadets' beyond what was necessary but he had never aimed to hurt someone's feelings. Even when he dressed down some fool because they tried something that could endanger him or the entire class, he never insulted someone just for the same of insulting or as a joke. If he had wanted to, well ... He had quite the arsenal with him after living a little over twelve hundred stellar cycle with the Decepticons. They threw insults, serious or not, around like rice at a wedding. But then there were the times when Sentinel would do something nice, usually for Elita or Optimus himself, and the Head Strategist of the Decepticons wouldn't know quite how to react. The air between them was always charged with awkwardness, especially if Elita wasn't around.

To be expected, really.

Sentinel was by-the-rule-book type of mech, a perfect obedient little Autobot whose dream was to become an Elite Guard officer and he had to work his aft off to get the position. Optimus, on the other servo, was a high ranking, fully trained Decepticon officer who had ended up in the Academy against his wishes and was breezing through it easier then venting atmosphere. He had caught everyone's optic and almost everyone knew by now that Ultra Magnus was interested in him and will probably invest in his further progress until he enters the Elite Guard, where many thought he already had a spot reserved for him. He and Sentinel bashed helms where rules were concerned, as Optimus found them too constricting and limiting as to the options they offered in solving problems. Optimus could solve it either way, but he was raised with practicality as the center of each decision he made and it showed. He didn't waste time or resources and did things in ways that at times completely contradicted the Autobot rule book. He didn't give two flying frags about it and it usually put him at odds with Sentinel.

Another thing they clashed about was their free time and how to spend it. Optimus may have resigned himself to getting somewhat attached to his two 'fellow cadets', but he was still very loyal to the Decepticons and _very_ determined to learn everything he could about the Autobots and, of course, his own situation. That was proving rather difficult when Sentinel got bored in the Archives after more than an hour of studying and reading. Elita put in the effort to last longer than three joors, usually because Optimus won't study or help _them_ study outside of the Hall of Records, but even she agreed with Sentinel that Optimus should take his helm out of the datapads. He disagreed. The Archives were a mine of the most valuable treasure: _knowledge_. There were so many topics he never could read about or study with the Decepticons, no matter how brilliant some of them were. And it wasn't even just reading for the sake of his own satisfaction or curiosity. The Autobots had obviously never expected a traitor or a spy in the Elite Guard, so they didn't bother to put in security protocols around specific strategically critical topics. Like, for instance, space bridge technology. And while only a space bridge engineer can read the schematics - or at least someone with more knowledge on engineering than Optimus had - there was still a lot of information that would help the Decepticons destroy/disable/besiege the Autobots' best strategy when fighting Decepticons. Ship schematics, plans of underground tunnels from before the Golden Age, urban plans, the list and locations of military bases and a whole plethora of other such critical information was at the tips of Optimus' digits and he was unwilling to let it slip by for going to night clubs or cadet parties and useless action movies that concentrated more on the explosions than the plot.

He was what one would call a dork or a geek and he didn't care. He wanted to learn as much as he can before he can finally return to where he belongs. In other words, the bridge of the Nemesis, hopefully.

It helped that he was the best cadet the Academy had ever seen. He aced all the subjects with perfect scores on every test. He won ever competition, be it athletic or academic. He set new records left and right and practically became the best cadet in the history of the Academy.

Then, one day, when they were to be put through simulated combat, he became the best cadet in the history of the Academy _officially_.

It gave him nightmares.

00000

Megatron noticed almost immediately that Optimus wouldn't meet his optics that night. Which was strange, as the younger mech hadn't been scared of him even when he was a sparkling who had walked in on Megatron snapping at Starscream with a Fusion Cannon to the seeker's helm for some new failed treachery he had had going on at the moment. Optimus didn't scare easy and he had enough pride to never not meet someone's gaze. And no matter what he said, Optimus didn't seem able to meet his optics. Megatron sent a ping of apology to his General and Lieutenants that all eagerly joined these chats as often as they can before privatizing the link so only he and the Head Strategist remained in hopes of finding out what's going on. It made no sense for Optimus to ... Fear him? No, that was just completely absurd.

And yet it wasn't. Optimus was acting like anyone else would in his position and he hated himself for it. The sight of Megatron usually sent his spark leaping in unbound joy and affection and yet now it shriveled in fear. His spark belonged to Megatron and yet it shuddered in fear and repulsion at the sight of him.

And it was all the Autobots' damned fault.

They had had a simulation test. They were told it was supposedly a survival test or something, being dumped for two solar cycles in the Sea of Rust to find their way back to the nearest military base all on their own. They took turns in the simulator and everyone faced different obstacles they were not to talk about until everyone had a turn. Elita and Sentinel and the rest of their class all went before Optimus, but when it was his turn, he had quite a surprise in store for him. He then understood why everyone came out shaking in their plating. It was quite easy to forget it wasn't real. The Megatron that had stood before him had seemed so realistic that Optimus had very nearly leaped into his arms for a much needed, much missed hug. The only way he could tell this was not the _real_ Megatron was the fact that the gray mech was trying to kill him and mocking him. It drove home the notion that it was all a program and he grit his dentae as he restrained himself from fighting at his best. He had, of course, often sparred with the warlord while they all used to live on the Nemesis, when he was younger, and he knew most of Megatron's tricks. He had never won a spar, despite how well he could use Megatron's strengths and weaknesses against him. It was a matter of the difference in their experience levels. The simulation of Megatron did him no justice but it fought quite well. Optimus had nearly beaten it - it couldn't hold a candle to the _real deal_ and it wasn't wise to _Optimus'_ own tricks like he was its templates so the difference in mass, strength and weaponry was useless and the balance of the fight was actually tipping in Optimus favor - until he felt a sword easily stab through his plating, piercing his spark and offlining him to a sneer in a much loved face.

Megatron would never kill him, Optimus knew that, logically. In theory ... But in reality, just the thought of the tyrant had his spark spluttering in his chassis. When he had disengaged from the simulator, he didn't hear Elita One's worry over his unbalanced state, he didn't registered Sentinel's teasing/taunts and he didn't react to Ultra Magnus stating he had great hopes for him because he had set the _highest record in the most difficult discipline in the Academy history_ and that he had potential for great things. He didn't register the awed whispers and gasps as his simulated battle with Megatron was replayed on a screen so his classmates could hear. He had left the room straight away and hid himself from his new admirers, somehow finding his way back to his room and just ... Letting his plating shiver against his protoform while he tried to reason with his spark, force it to calm down.

He knew Megatron was very fond of him and that he wouldn't kill him ... But the doubts from that fight against Megazarak resurfaced and Optimus curled in on himself tighter, fighting back a keen. Megatron adored his little Head Strategist, Lord Optimus, the sparkling he had saved from Archa 7, a neutral, a mech who won him thousands of battles. Optimus wasn't him anymore. He can't be who he really is until he can track down Lockdown and have the bounty hunter remove the Autobot brand and the coding it altered from his systems. He can't be free until he leaves Cybertron. Megatron might not want him back otherwise or at all! He would be a liability ... An enemy. He didn't want to be the Decepticons' enemy! They were his family!

The image of Megatron's hateful expression as the sword struck his spark refused to leave his processor, even joors later when he received his daily calls from his caretakers and he saw Megatron's small smile when he answered. It was haunting him and he hated feeling so weak. He was Lord Optimus of the Decepticons, for Primus' sake! Their beloved Head Strategist, the little sparkling that had looked upon the monstrous DJD and didn't find them _terrifying_.

Megatron had made it a private call before he could gather himself on his own, calling his name and waiting for the younger to look up. "What's wrong?"

Optimus hesitated, not wanting to admit to such a disturbed state as he was currently in but also knowing it would be useless to lie. Not only was his uneasy obvious, but Megatron knew him too well. The mech had been one of the few who had the most direct hand in raising him, his primary caretaker, his protector ... Protector ... Why did that sound so good, so comforting, so _right_? Looking into those red optics he had known his whole life, Optimus found himself recounting everything that had happened, flinching when he heard Megatron's engine rev in anger at the thought of Optimus being forced to fight _any_ version, form or visage of himself and possibly at the thought of it being _his_ sword that ended Optimus' life. "I'm sorry. I know it's unreasonable and I don't believe you'd hurt me for a nanosecond, but that image ... It just won't _leave_ me!"

"Those fraggers," growled the warlord. "As if I didn't already have enough reasons to tear them apart limb from limb. When I get my servos on them ... "

Optimus wondered if it was weird that Megatron's murderous grumbling, be it in neocybex, galactic standard, the Tarnian or Kaonian dialect, was the most soothing lullaby he'd ever heard.

00000

After that, Optimus advanced ahead of his class once again, becoming an acting cadet group leader for Sentinel and Elita One. They started getting 'missions', training more together and often doing patrols around Cybertron. In his free time, Optimus had taken up to expand and enrichen his linguistic module, learning all of Cybertron's regional dialects, starting with Tarn and Kaon. The archivists all gave him strange looks but couldn't care less what he was doing as long as he wasn't interfering with their jobs.

He started spending almost all of his free time in the Hall of Records. Elita and Sentinel were, for a while, too busy with studies for exams and tests to bother him, so he all but slept in the beautiful building. The Grand Archivist took notice of this. Optimus at times caught him looking at him with this strange, considering expression on those old, mustached faceplates out of the corner of his optic before the mech shook his helm and walked off to do whatever it was he usually did. It became somewhat of a norm for him to occasionally glimpse the old mech. He usually paid him no heed, didn't even nod to him in respect or greeting, just returning to the text before him. But Alpha Trion always paused when he saw Optimus, would consider him some more before leaving, never approaching him or saying anything, something Optimus was grateful for. He'd be too tempted to ask questions if the old mech gave him the opportunity.

Then, one solar cycle about two stellar cycles since Optimus had first sighted the Hall of Records from the outside, he found the seat across his usual spot occupied by none other than the Grand Archivist himself. The Head Strategist of the Decepticons stared at the working mech surrounded by stacks of datapads for a moment before shaking his helm and deciding he didn't care. He just sat in his usual place and continued reading the history datapad he'd picked up for the next few joors, completely ignoring the old mech. When he was finished and went to stand up so he can go find something else, he was quite surprised to see that Alpha Trion was gone. An interestingly impressive feat, as Optimus never quite lost his awareness of his surroundings no matter what he was doing, even leading a battle from the bridge of the Empirion or the Nemesis. It was a necessity to be a good Commander. Otherwise, he'd get his soldiers killed.

But what truly caught his attention was the key chip left behind. He picked it up and studied it before wandering off to find its lock. Which turned out to be a private station with access to the Grid with a manual for first time users. It was a fancy station, far fancier than the others Optimus had seen so far. He hesitated only for a moment before he extended a data cable and connected to the Grid. It was the greatest feeling Optimus had ever experienced so far. He had always wanted to fly, strangely enough seeing as he was a _civilian_ grounder of all things, and he imagined that surfing the Grid was what flying by your own power felt like and he purred, whether only on the Grid or in real life, too, he didn't know and he found he didn't care as the Grid responded to his presence and the countless questions swirling in his processor. It wasn't invasive, it didn't try to access any of his private archives in his memory banks, he got no warning about viruses attacking his systems. It just felt amazing and he wondered why he wasn't overwhelmed by the amount of information rushing through his processor as he tested the Grid out by sating his curiosity on so many different subjects. The Grid connected every archive and library on Cybertron on one network which only an archivist can access, meaning it gave Optimus access to all of the works stored in all of those places. Praxus' art datapads, Tyger Pax's classical literature texts, Polyhex's astronomy works, Crystal City's scientific research, Tarn's mining records, Kaon's energon-soaked history of the Gladiatorial Pits, even the long lost Astroplex's library of the legends of the first Thirteen Primes and the accounts from the wars against the Quintessons! Everything was there and Optimus couldn't decide where to start until video footage of a familiar gray mech floated in front of him.

He opened the window and watched in fascination one of Megatron's first speeches against the system that oppressed his people, younger, just as passionate, just as good with words, a leader in the making that will shake Cybertron from the ground up. He couldn't look away, couldn't stop himself from watching more and more videos, couldn't stop but curling up against them in the Grid, enjoying that oh so beloved voice criticizing the government that didn't care as long as their own tanks were full.

When he surfaced from the Grid, he was disoriented and felt empty without that vastness of knowledge surrounding him. He disconnected himself and couldn't believe he'd spent the entire day there. It would be lights out soon and he had to return to his room. He passed by Alpha Trion on his way out of the Archives but the old mech acted as though Optinus wasn't trying to return the key chip he honestly shouldn't have even been using. That station was obviously Trion's but he hadn't cared. And if Trion didn't care then who was Optimus to deny himself this chance to learn everything he wanted.

He spent half the dark cycle talking his former caretakers' audials off about what he'd found and how cool the Grid was, much to their fond, exasperated amusement. Starscream snorted at the notion of the Grid feeling like flying and he started bickering with Blitzwing about the accuracy of such a statement while Shockwave asked hundreds of questions. After all, usually only archivists had access to the Grid, mostly because they bad the processor built in a way as to not fry their brain modules upon hooking up to it. No one else ever got to experience it and Shockwave was nothing short of a scientist in spark. It curiosity like that which made the world evolve, after all.

Unfortunately, Optimus didn't get much time after that to access the Grid. Elita and Sentinel were free bots as soon as the exams finished and started dragging Optimus all over Iacon now that they had time to relax. He resigned himself to it and just let them pick places. Concerts, movies, festivals, parties, that one theater show which was a good idea on Elita's part, but usually it was just things Optimus found boring. He was one thousand two hundred and ten stellar cycles old. He wasn't old by their specie's standards but he had always been mature for his age. He preferred doing useful, serious things that might improve him in some way, physical, mental, emotional or spiritual. Which was why he had suggested they visit the Primal Basilica when he heard they were displaying the legendary Matrix of Leadership. It was only a one dark cycle thing and the number of bots that will get to see the ancient artifact was limited. If there was one experience on Cybertron Optimus was determined to be proud of, it would be seeing it in person. Elita didn't mind and neither did Sentinel, though the mech complained half of the time they spent waiting for their turn to enter the Primal Basilica.

They only got their chance at midnight and the first thing they saw as they entered with their waiting group was the Matrix of Leadership, lit up by dozens of lights in the beautiful building of the first Primes. It stood there, on a pedestal, in all its gold and silver glory with a blue energon-like crystal in its center, practically glittering regality and divinity, waking awe in every bot that saw it and yet ... When Optimus looked at it, all he could really think was-

"It's fake." Elita and Sentinel looked at him incredulously as his voice, quiet as it might have been, carried over towards the other bots in the Basilica with them.

"Excuse me?" A red and white femme asked with a sneer on her faceplate as she regarded him in distaste. Optimus paid no heed to the threatening, challenging light in her optics as he met them, calmly repeating his earlier statement. He just as easily ignored Sentinel's exasperated - and very _loud_ \- groans and Elita's uneasy shifting from pede to pede. "And what makes you say that? Or even _think_ you have the right to _judge_, _youngling_?"

Optimus arched an optic ridge at her, unimpressed. "One, I am one thousand two hundred and ten stellar cycles old. I am _far_ from a youngling. Two, every bot has a right to express their opinion, no matter how unpopular it may be amongst his fellow bots. And _three_," he gestured towards the practically glittering item they were discussing. "Don't you _feel_ it?"

"I feel _nothing_," the femme replied, sneer only growing deeper before it turned into a satisfied smirk as more bots agreed with her. The Head Strategist only smiled, though, pleased.

"_Exactly_." At the perplexed looks he received, Optimus only shook his helm, gesturing with a blue servo all around them. "I may not be old enough to have had the honor of seeing this place lit up in the Matrix's blessed light, but I _have_ read about it and seen old footage of it happening. Not only is the Primal Basilica not reacting to the 'Matrix's' presence," he once again pointed at the supposed relic. It deeply unsettled him to see it and not _feel_ it. He wasn't even sure why he thought he should feel something _peculiar_ at all. "But neither are we. Think about it," Optimus urged, turning around and walking to stand right in front of the thing. "The Matrix of Leadership is a fragment of Primus' own spark, a container of infinite power and the conduit of his will. Shouldn't we _feel_ it on a spark-deep level? All written accounts clearly state so." He let his words sink in before shrugging and going off to a different part of the Basilica, not caring that he was being stared at. "Ergo, it's a fake."

He ignored the murmuring that he left in his wake as the other bots gathered closer to get a good look at the declared-fake Matrix of Leadership, desperately wanting to get as far away from the inert, cold object with a random crystal in its casing instead of pure energon, unable to look upon its fake glow. Instead, he found himself in front of the engraving of the first Thirteen Primes, remembering with crystal clarity the stories Cyclonus used to tell him. Not mere myths or legends, but history, _ancient_ history of their kind, so old that only the first couple of generations had written it and those texts were preserved for vorns through speech and through archives. He stared at the faces of the Thirteen and found it amusing that neither Prima nor Megatronus Prime resembled the badges 'made in their image'. They would probably be insulted if someone were to declare its their semblance. Not only were the colors wrong - Prima was white as light and Megatronus was as black as space, two complete opposites, the two strongest warriors amongst the Thirteen Primes - but so were the 'simplified' features. For one, Prima was almost as much a warframe as Megatronus was. He was bigger than a civilianframe, bigger than even Ultra Magnus, and he had intergrated battle protocols. His might sword, the legendary Star Saber, might not be a part of his frame like Megatronus' Requiem Blaster was but it still held a place on his frame and was deeply connected to him. Prima wasn't a pure frame type. He somewhat belonged to both worlds. And Megatronus wasn't as monstrous as Autobots liked to make him appear, as was clear in his depiction on the Basilica's walls. Yes, he had fangs and claws and was even larger than Prima, but he hadn't been created with the Requiem Blaster on his arm, rather it was a gift from Solus, created according to his instructions (he _was_ the first real warframe and he had given her the design that will align with his existing systems and protocols). He had been as much a creator as he had been a destroyer. He created energy out of dark matter for his Requiem Blaster. He was a protector, said to have given his spark for the new transformers that were sparked from the Well as the first generation. He was Prima's match and Prima's opposite, but he was still Prima's brother, was still a Prime. The first true warframe.

And then Optimus' optics fell on the Thirteenth's form. No one but the Primes of old had seen the Thirteenth and they hadn't bothered to imprint his image in these walls for the future generations to see, almost selfishly keeping their youngest for themselves. He was just a silhouette, no features, no face, no color, just an outstretched servo as if beckoning to unity, what appeared to be audial finials and light bursting from his supposedly open sparkchamber. The first _true_ civilianframe. No weapons, even after Solus Prime created them for all the other Primes using her Forge. The Thirteenth almost always stood at Prima's side, along with Megatronus Prime. The Thirteenth was always surrounded by his fellow Primes, his siblings. He was their uniter. Cyclonus had told Optimus that the Thirteenth's spark was as pure as Primus', as pure as the Matrix. He united the Thirteen Primes, creating the first peace and first alliance between all the different frametypes that used to exist on Cybertron, making them into a united force that defeated even the Chaos Bringer. The old tales said Megatronus was deeply protective of him for his lack of weaponry, despite him being a capable warrior at spark - all Primes were. Legend says that's where the warframes' role as protectors of Cybertron came from.

"You're not wrong, you know." Optimus snapped out of his drifting thoughts and turned to look at Alpha Trion, standing there beside him, servos crassed behind his back beneath that strange cape of his, looking upon the faces of the Thirteen. When he sensed he had the younger bot's attention, he inclined his helm towards the fake artifact. "About the Matrix. It has not seen the light of Haden since the death of Prima, millions of stellar cycles ago, before the second Quintesson invasion. This fake has been constructed to give 'divine power' to 'rightful leaders' chosen by 'Primus' so the Senate and its chosen couldn't be opposed in their functionist ideals. The _real_ Matrix is back with Primus, awaiting the day a worthy mech will come to claim it once more."

"It might have a long wait to come yet," the red and blue mech snorted, turning his attention back to the faceless Thirteenth Prime.

"Perhaps," Trion hummed before turning on his heel and slowly, silently walking away deeper into the Basilica. "Or perhaps that mech is already here and is not aware of it. Only Primus and the AllSpark might know."

Optimus watching him go, resetting his optics at his retreating back atruts and wondering what _that_ was about. It was a very strange first conversation, in his humble opinion. He could understand the older mech occasionally sitting across from him as he did his work while Optimus read or studied. Optimus knew some bots worked best around other diligently working bots and Optimus was a bit of a workaholic, if he was being honest with himself. But Alpha Trion had never said a word in those times, so why change that now? And why with such a weird, cryptic conversation and even more cryptic parting words?

He didn't get to ponder it for long as Sentinel insisted they leave now that they've done what Optimus wanted and it turned out to be a waste of their time, insisting they go to a bar while they were still out. Optimus followed after him and Elita, resolving to question Trion about it the next time he went to the Hall of Records.

00000

Early in the next light cycle, he, Elita and Sentinel were pulled off of their free time and sent out on patrol in place of a team whose two members got so charged last night cycle that they had to have their tanks emptied of all that high grade.

Optimus spark nearly stopped when he saw which sector they were being sent to.

It would seem Archa 7 was destined to haunt him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Head Strategist**

**Summary: A sparkling discarded by its own people becomes one of the most powerful mechs in the universe, much to the shock of those who had thrown him away. Primus watches out for his children, no matter where they end up. And this discarded sparlking has the power to bring peace to a war that has been raging for eons. He only needs to survive.**

"No," was all Optimus said with a resolve that usually had even Overlord conceding to his wishes despite how much he wanted to cause chaos on the enemy lines, but didn't seem to have the slightest effect on the blue and orange bot before him.

"Oh, come on, Optimus, old buddy! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity to have an adventure like this presented to us!" Sentinel all but whined and wilded, trying to get the older mech to agree. "Just think about it! A Con energon delivery ship! Can you _imagine_ what is on it? No one's been there since it was reported to have crash landed! Think of the _fame_, think of the _energon_!"

Optimus had had quite enough of both in his young life and he didn't need an extra of the first. He'd spent his whole life trying to stay a secret for the Decepticons, knowing he may be seen as a weakness, could be a liability before he became crucial to their winning streak. He didn't need fame. The Decepticon Head Strategist intimidated by being the best kept secret of the Decepticon Empire. He drove fear into others because they can't make a proper psychological profile of him, can't figure him out. As far as the universe was concerned, the Head Strategist came out of nowhere and took the Decepticons and then the galaxy and the universe by storm. It wasn't exactly far off from the truth, as Optimus _still_ had no idea where he came from. He'd never found anything in the Archives or on the Grid to suggest a sparkling had been discarded by the Autobots, but that didn't mean they were innocent. Optimus wouldn't have been in an escape pod for Megatron and Cyclonus to find on _Archa 7_ of all places if they were guiltless. And although going down to Archa 7 to find said pod _could_ answer some questions or give him clues as to where to look, that didn't change the fact that Optimus logic centers and his strategy protocols were labeling just the _thought_ of landing on the organic planet as suicide. To go down there without at least a platoon of _warframes_ at your back is beyond foolish and Head Strategist Lord Optimus was _not_ a fool.

"Think of your _life_," Optimus shot back, sending Sentinel an unimpressed look, crossing his servos over his chest. "There's a _good_ reason why organic planets are off limits. Not even the Decepticons venture _there_ unless it's absolutely necessary."

"They're just cowards," the big-chinned mech waved him off and never before had Optimus missed his immediate, direct access to the Peaceful Tyranny as he did now. He'd like to see Sentinel say that to _any_ DJD member's faceplates, even over a video feed. Tarn would tear him apart with his voice alone. "Come _on_, Optimus! Can you imagine the glory if we brought that much energon with us? We'd be put on the fast track for the Elita Guard in no time! We'd get medals! We'd be _heroes_!"

"A hero is a person willing to give up his or her life for something greater than themselves, _not_ a bunch of rowdy youngsters bringing home the enemy's long lost energon supply from a crashed, possibly dangerously unstable ship from a dangerous planet which is _banned_. If anything, we'd get court martialed," the acting officer replied in a deadpan, cocking a hip to further emphasis how much of an idiot he thought Sentinel was being. "You're usually very by the book, Sentinel. It's not like you to go out on a limb and do something _this_ stupid."

"I just thought we should do something more daring so we can keep up with you," Sentinel waved him off but Optimus frowned at the undertones of jealousy he detected in his friend's tone. True, Optimus had advanced several levels ahead of the rest of his 'classmates' in the Academy, especially after that simulated fight against Megatron, but Sentinel and Elita hadn't been having _too_ much trouble in being at the top of their own generation. If you were to remove Optimus from the equation, they were possibly two of the best cadets in the Academy. Optimus at times wondered if it was a bit unfair towards his young friends. He'd had finished the things they were only now learning when he was their age, nine hundred stellar cycles ago. That didn't change the fact that he was the senior cadet and acting officer of this little crew, though, and that he very much did _not_ want to land a ship as small and weaponless as this. They only had two flare grenades and a handful of missals to protect themselves if something were to go awry! The little ship he'd arrived in on Cybertron had more defense measures!

"We could _die_!"

"It's _fine_~," Sentinel insisted, throwing a servo over the red and blue mech's shoulderstruts. "We have _you_ here to protect us, right?" Optimus opened his intake to protest the notion that he could defend them against an enemy like the arachnids of Archa 7 when Sentinel lost interest in him and turned towards their third companion. "What do you think Elita? Should we go and become Cybertron's heroes?"

Optimus also turned his attention to the yellow femme and his spark stopped when he saw her chewing her lower lip plate between her dentae in a vaguely guilty manner as she reluctantly met his optics. "I agree with Sentinel. I mean, it could be _fun_," she tried to explain when Optimus' face started closing off. "And we'd be doing a service for the Autobot cause by bringing back energon if it's really there. Think of the adventure, think of the _history_ of that ship!"

He was. He was thinking of nine mechs that had started out on the journey and the five frames that may very well still be there as gray, rusting husks. He was thinking of four of his caretakers, so desperate for him not to return to this planet that had very nearly been his final resting place when he was so young that they never mentioned it by name since they brought him back. He was thinking of Megatron's broken composure as worry made him snap and raise his voice at Optimus for the first time in a medbay after a near death experience for the younger mech. He was thinking about the history of that ship alright. "My answer is still no. I'm team leader. I'm pulling rank. If you want to go down to that ship, I'll report you to the Elite Guard."

"You _wouldn't_!" The other mech hissed while Elita looked conflicted. Optimus didn't budge.

"I _would_ and I will, _gladly_, if it's the only way to save your lives. I'm not going to be responsible for your offlining. We're sticking to the rules."

"I thought your attitude leaned more towards 'rules are meant to be broken', given how many you break all the time," Sentinel challenged, referring to all the times Optimus did his own thing for the sake of better results in training exercises and the such or every time he corrected their instructors or snorted at what they were 'teaching'. Said bot narrowed his optics, taking on a stance that _screamed_ Head Strategist, a stance he'd thought might be a bit rusty after all the years it hadn't been put to use. It was as perfect and as commanding as ever. Sentinel was _not_ talking to _Cadet Optimus_ right now.

"Not rules regulating safety. Those are _never_ to be broken. I'm doing this for your own good. We are _not_ landing on that planet." Elita watched the stare off in silence, wondering who would give in first before Sentinel grumbled under his breath and backed off with a snapped "Fine!" And just like that, the argument was over and Optimus released a sigh of relief reluctantly through his vents. Something didn't feel quite right but he kept a close optic on their course as they circled the planet until it was the night cycle came around and he even more reluctantly left for his berth, Sentinel in tow, leaving Elita on monitor duty until it was his turn.

He should have known better than to think the situation was resolved.

00000

After waking up on _Archa 7_ and yelling his poor vocalizer to near malfunction, Optimus had no choice but to follow his two unruly subordinates as they went off to explore the planet on their own, intent on keeping a close optic on them. After all, he knew what kind of creatures inhabited this planet and they didn't. He tried getting them back to the ship but not even Elita was listening to him.

Optimus wasn't used to people not listening to him. He wasn't arrogant or stuck up or spoiled. He'd just never had a soldier go against his orders before. Sure, Megatron, Strika, Shockwave and Scrash have turned down countless of his strategies when he was just beginning to study tactics but they had always given him an explanation down to the last detail why such an order couldn't be given. They still turned down some of his plans or made him fight for them to be carried out as the final plan of attack. Even if some soldier _did_ go against his orders, it was usually because the situation out in the battlefield had suddenly changed and the tactic was either rendered mute or impossible to carry out and it was usually explained to him in brisk words why so he can fix it or think up a new strategy that won't unnecessarily cost lives.

Never before had one of his orders been disobeyed just for the pit of it. Neither Sentinel nor Elita had a good reason as to why they should go down to the planet or why they decided to ignore his order and land the ship while he had been in recharge. Something like this would never happen with the Decepticons. Disobeying orders for no good reason made one a loose cannon and loose cannons were a liability. Warframes were practical beings to the point of not giving two frags about someone who's endangering their mission, their _Cause_. No Decepticon would do something as foolish as this.

No Decepticon would dare being declared a deserter or a traitor and risk having the DJD cone after them.

And no Decepticon would go against their Head Strategist's plans without a damn good reason. It just didn't happen. They _all_ knew Optimus wasn't going easy on them but wasn't going to throw them under an Omega Sentinel for nothing. It was a matter of trust and respect.

Optimus felt cold inside upon realizing his two 'friends' didn't have much of either for him if they were doing this after he had _specifically_ told them how dangerous this could be.

Sentinel, he guessed he could understand. Sentinel had ambitions to become an excellent, high ranking member of the Elite Guard and Optimus had seen him do plenty of things in order to continue climbing towards that dream, that desired position. Sentinel had never quite formed a bond of _true_ friendship with Optimus, despite all the stellar cycles they've spent together by now. Sentinel saw him as a threat to his dream, that much he had made _quite_ clear. The only reason the blue and orange mech had even come to know Optimus beyond being that mech who excelled at everything and often corrected their tutors was because of Elita One.

He had not expected this to be the case with the yellow femme. Elita had always admired him and sought his approval. It was beyond strange to him for her to do something as disrespectful as ignore not only an order, but _advice_ on _survival_ of all things! In the stellar cycles that he'd known her, she had looked up to him more than their instructors, more than war heroes, more than even Ultra Magnus! Optimus had at one point wondered if she was a Decepticon spy sent to keep him company and keep him safe with how seriously she took everything he said. He was beginning to doubt allowing her in so close. When he had kept to himself, kept out of her reach, been untouchable, she'd treated his words as the law. Now, when he would have most appreciated such treatment, she was rebelling. Elita had so far seen him as a mentor, an older brother of sorts, had relied on him for advice in decision making. And while he usually wouldn't mind for her to become more independent, he sure as pit did _not_ approve of her first ever decision being to land on a planet full of Cybertronian-eating organics that were probably twice their size! It could be that Sentinel convinced her to agree to something as stupid as this, but it could easily as well been her own choice.

Now Optimus had no choice than to follow them so he could keep them safe. He sure as Pit wasn't going to let them die on _his_ watch! He could reduce casualties to a maximum of only 5% of the original forces. He was _not_ going to lose two idiots directly under his care. He'd already requested backup from HQ, knowing chances were they'd need immediate medical attention by the time they leave. He didn't care if it got all three of them court martialed. Reputation had never meant more to him than the lives of his soldiers, of his comrades, of his _friends_ ... Of his family. And damn it if he wasn't attached to the two idiots!

So here he was now, the mighty Head Strategist of the Decepticon armies, trailing after two Autobot mechlings and cursing the foolishness of youth as though he himself was some old bot and not just relatively recently out of mechlinghood himself. Sentinel and Elita were wandering aimlessly, searching for traces of the fallen ship, while Optimus kept a wary optic on their surroundings. Elita might be marveling at the mysterious, sparkling webs that had started overhead as they entered a canyon but the red and blue mech knew what they were and they were as deadly as they were beautiful, traps set up by superb hunters who didn't care _what_ they caught, they were going to eat it either way. They had to be close. His battle protocols were running wild, making him so hyper aware that he was visibly on edge. He swore this was both the most exhilarating and the most anxious he had been in his life since the first battle he had led. It wasn't a very nice feeling, especially when there was no Strika for support or Shockwave's accented, precise voice calling out statistics and field data. It was just him with two _kids_ that he had to look after on a hostile alien planet with predatory organics. Fragging perfect.

It was then that something made him pause, made him look up without any real explanation that he could think of. The laughter and chatter of his two companions fell into the background as he came to a stop, looking around, trying to find the source of his ... He wasn't even sure what it was, to be honest. All he knew was that there was something here, closer to the walls of the canyon ... He ignored Elita when she called his name or Sentinel's shouted questions at to where he was going, instead taking out his ax and engaging the little spikes on his pedes as he started climbing up the steep, a bit unstable wall. If he was sure of the strength of the minerals the wall was made of, he would have used his grappler to hoist himself up immediately. As it was, he knew better than to risk it. Most of the Decepticons had spent centuries as miners and had taught Optimus a few tricks, including equipping him with a mineral mining scanner and an underground navigation system in case he ever got trapped in a cave in. That and common sense prepared Optimus well enough for him to know _not_ to trust an organic rock side just because it looked sturdy enough.

When he got to the top, it didn't take him long to locate what had had him so tense. There, not five kliks away, was a crashed long distance escape pod of Autobot design, the lid ripped off and thrown carelessly to the side, quite a bit damaged. _'The spiders,'_ Optimus remembered from the report that Megatron and Cyclonus had only found the pod he had been in because of the spiders attacking it. It would seem he kind of owed them his life. Had they not tried to eat him, he would have died here and they would have feasted on his corpse. He threw a glance over his shoulderstrut when he heard Sentinel grumbling and saw that he and Elita were following after him but were climbing with a lot more difficulty due to lacking the spikes he had in his own pedes and a weapon that could help them get a better grip. He left them to it, knowing that the worst the fall would do if it came was break a servo and that would serve as a good enough lesson as to why you _don't_ disobey your Commanding Officer. These two will need such a lesson if they hope to enter the Elite Guard. Those guys are as rigid as someone with an energy spear up their aft.

Once Optimus arrived by the pod, he nearly recoiled at the damaged state it was. Yes, Megatron and Cyclonus had indeed saved him at the last possible moment before he would have become an organic's snack. But what truly perplexed him was the glowing glyphs, right beside where the helm would be. All escape pods were made so any mech could access them and escape for safety. Optimus must have been tiny in comparison, he would have fit whole in just the space meant for the helm! And right there, as if engraved by light itself, glowed a set of glyphs Optimus could somehow read. Only one he couldn't make head or tails of. The glyphs made up _Optimus Q_. They resembled the glyphs Cyclonus had shown him but seemed even older, possibly by several vorns! So why was such an ancient script found in a pod with Optimus in it? An _Autobot_ pod, at that. Why was Optimus even in there? Why did he end up _here_? How was also an entire new question.

He reached out and traced the glyphs, only to jolt as energy surged through him, his vision going a brilliant light of purest white and his processor might be glitching because he _couldn't_ have possibly heard that deep, ancient, gentle, _loving_ sounding voice whisper his name, surely! He looked around, trying to see if there was anyone else there, because he felt a ghost of a presence, energy still surging through him. He was unaware that his optics were glowing near white. He was unaware that ancient symbols were dancing just beneath his pain or that his original flamed design was starting to form through the overcoat the Autobots had pained over them so he would fit more into their image of an officer. He was unaware that he himself was emitting light as he traced the ancient glyphs over and over again, feeling like if he stared long enough the last glyph's meaning might change.

But Elita, who climbed up first, saw and _was_ aware and she panicked, reaching out and grabbing Optimus' shoulder, startling him enough for his fingers to lose contact with the etching in the pod, making it instantly stop glowing and turn cold as though it hadn't been giving off an interesting light show. He looked up at the worried femme and wondered why she was staring at him with something akin to awe before they both reset their optics and the near enchanting moment was over. Optimus frowned in confusion, suddenly unsure how he even got here in the first place. "Wha-?"

"Oh! An escape pod! Good optic, Optimus! This must mean we're close!" Sentinel broke in before either of the two could ask any of the _millions_ of questions currently running through their processors. The mostly blue tow truck made his way over to inspect the pod before pointing in the direction opposite of the one they had come from. "It landed from there, which meant we had been heading in the right direction! See? I told you I knew what I was doing."

Elita cut in before Optimus could say anything, probably seeing the _murder_ in his optics, coming to stand in front of them. "Maybe we should start heading back. We don't know when this planet's light cycle will end and who _knows_ what sort of creatures live here."

Optimus once again opened his intake to give her a piece of his mind but Sentinel cut him off this time. "We can't quit now! We're almost there! I can _feel_ it."

"No," Optimus said for the thousandth time in the last solar cycle. "We're leaving. Now. You've had your little adventure, Sentinel, now it's time to go. And if you resist, I won't hesitate to put you both in stasis cuffs and drag you back in alt mode by myself. Your choice."

The two exchanged glanced before conceding, though Sentinel didn't stop complaining all the way back down the cliff side. Now, Optimus should have really known better than to believe them when they had lied to him once already regarding this foolhardy quest so its really all his own fault when the both of them started running as soon as their pedes hit solid ground. He cursed and went after them, transforming to alt mode midstep, giving chase until they came upon unstable ground above an underground cavern through which they promptly fell through and he had to transform again to root mode or risk some _serious_ damage that might even leave him incapable of initiating a transformation sequence again until he gets repairs due to landing wrong.

Sometimes, as he pointed his headlights at the gigantic creatures that his caretakers had saved him from a little over twelve hundred stellar cycles ago, he really hated being wrong.

_'Megatron's going to have my _aft_ for being here,'_ was his last coherent thought as he engaged his battle ax and fell into a defensive stance.

He just hoped he'll survive long enough for that verbal lashing in the first place.


	10. Chapter 10

**Head Strategist**

**Summary: A sparkling discarded by its own people becomes one of the most powerful mechs in the universe, much to the shock of those who had thrown him away. Primus watches out for his children, no matter where they end up. And this discarded sparlking has the power to bring peace to a war that has been raging for eons. He only needs to survive.**

It all happened too fast: the spiders attacking, them managing to hold off the first wave and then reinforcements coming, Sentinel holding them off so Elita and Optimus could run, his battle protocols and strategic and logic modules declaring the situation hopeless of victory without casualties and recommending immediate escape as the only option, finding the crashed ship with its energon cargo but not even the rusting husks of his caretakers' comrades, getting tangled in the sticky webbing, the eggs hatching, Elita saving him, more adult spiders finding them, igniting the energon cubes and Elita using her copying powers so she can use grapplers like him, the timer on her powers running out, Optimus failing to catch her but Elita surviving the fall, fighting off the spiders all on her own, surrounded, Sentinel arriving, all his protocols that made him a good strategist _screaming_ at him that he can't save Elita without killing them all ... Grabbing Sentinel before he can go on the suicide mission of saving Elita and saving him just nanoseconds before the whole cargo of energon blew up, Elita's life signal disappearing from his scanners ... The despair ... Sentinel blaming it on him ... The arrival of the Elite Guard, stasis cuffs around both his and Sentinel's wrists ... The Stocades ...

The trial ...

He had been _this_ close to graduating from the damned Academy and getting the chance to go to the frontlines, where his _real_ allies and comrades were. He had been _this_ close to leaving this miserable prison of a life he had never wanted. _This_ close, so, so _close_ to finally going home. He had dreamed of it for so long that, as his graduation date neared, Optimus swore that his dreams were a reality. That Overlord did indeed break through enemy lines, scooped him up and shot back for the Decepticon frontlines where the rest of DJD were eagerly waiting to fight over who gets to carry him home and who has to stay behind to wreck the Autobots. That he was on Peaceful Tyranny, _his ship_, going towards the Nemesis. That Cyclonus was tweaking his finial playfully in greeting, that Strika was clapping his shoulderstrut in welcome ... That Megatron had his big servos around him and was holding him close ...

That he was _free_!

Now, instead, because of Sentinel's _stupidity_, he had lost a very close friend, he was under constant surveillance and he couldn't leave the military ground surrounding Fortress Maximus and the Academy. He wasn't even allowed in his old room, instead put into a much smaller one, barely enough space for the uncomfortable slab that served as a berth and himself to fit in. He didn't have enough room to search for the bugs he _knew_ were there, which meant he couldn't contact Strika, Cyclonus, Shockwave or Megatron or _anyone_ without drawing immediate attention to himself. He couldn't even get to his _scrambler_!

Not that he was too motivated to be defiant anymore. Nor will he be for a while. Sentinel was partially right. It _was_ his fault Elita offlined, but he wasn't stupid enough to accept all the blame. Sure, he might have accepted the responsibility for the incident on Archa 7 as the senior cadet, as he would have for a failed mission or a lost battle as Head Strategist, but he knew it wasn't his fault that they had been on the planet in the _first_ place. It made him suspicious that the Elite Guard was ignoring the official statement he'd made before leaving the ship after his two disobedient subordinates about how he had ordered _against _this, or the black box voice recorder that recorded every nanosecond of using the ship or even the fact that he had called for help _before_ anything happened, explaining the situation in great detail. In fact, he had pretty much created an alibi for himself from the start. Why was Ultra Magnus willing to ignore all that, just to kick Optimus out of the Academy but forbid him from leaving the military? Why now, when he had always pushed for Optimus' advancement through the Academy and through its ranks?

_'He's planning something,'_ Optimus had realized right away. _'The question is just _what_.'_ He couldn't have made the connection between Optimus and the mysterious Decepticon Head Strategist. Only few outside of the Decepticons knew his identity and none of them were stupid enough to earn the ire of the Decepticon Empire and its Emperor and General of Destruction. _'He couldn't have pegged me as a traitor, either.'_ Optimus had been very careful in just being a rebellious, strong-opinioned young mech who did _not_ like his freedom and independence suddenly being taken away from him. He had never openly showed how much he disagreed with the system he was forced into. _'Maybe he heard about the Basilica incident?'_ But that just meant Optimus was using his processor, not that he was ... whatever Autobots might think of him having an ounce of common sense. _Does he know Alpha Trion gave me access to the Grid?'_ But that was Trion's business, not the Magnus' or the Council's. _'In the end, it doesn't even matter,'_ he thought bitterly.

He had lost a friend, he had lost what little 'freedom' he had had here and the only _other_ friend he had ever had since he came to this accursed planet. He had only ever shown any respect or inclination to not being beyond exasperated with towards Elita, Sentinel, Kup Minor and ... Alpha Trion. He couldn't go to the first two because one was dead and the other hated him to the core to discuss this and he couldn't approach the other two because Kup was a loyal Autobot and was no doubt disappointed if not outright disgusted with him over what happened and Alpha Trion ... He wasn't sure what Alpha Trion might say or how he might react if he went to him. Optimus had talked to him only once.

_Primus_, but did he miss his caretakers. He wished for nothing more than to curl up against someone who would tell him it wasn't his fault, that he had acted as any general would, saving as many as he could instead of sacrificing everyone on a futile endeavor. He already _knew_ this, to the core of his spark, but it would have still felt great if he could hear it from someone else because _Elita had trusted him_! She had looked up to him, leaned on him, _believed_ in him, trusted him to keep her safe! He could have prevented this. He shouldn't have gone into recharge. He shouldn't have let his guard down when his 'fellow cadets' had conceded so easily. He should have just put them in stasis cuffs and dragged them back to the ship.

_'Like Megatron should have stopped me but didn't. Because it was _my_ choice,'_ the red and blue mech thought miserably, looking down at his servos. _'Now look at how well it all turned out.'_ He had always known he should listen to his elders. They had far more life experience than him. They knew why they weren't letting him do something. Why hadn't he listened to them this time, when he had never had that problem before? _'Because I was curios. Because I was _selfish_.'_ After all, curiosity killed the turbocat. _'But satisfaction brought it back. Urgh! I need to clear my head! I can't go on like this anymore!'_

It's already been a groon since Elita's offlining. Or he thought that's how long it's been. His and Sentinel's trial had taken a decacycle later, when Rung the psychologist had determined they were both stable enough emotionally and mentally for it, when the medics declared their wounds mostly healed. He'd turned off his chronometer for a while, not wanting to count the moments if how long his first friend outside of the Decepticons has been deactivated. He'd heard from some of his caretakers that it's easier to deal with the loss if you weren't constantly reminded of the ticking time and how long was 'appropriate' to mourn. So he _thinks_ it's been about a groon and he'd spent almost all of that time in this new 'room' of his. It was definitely time for him to stretch his stabilizers and catch some fresh atmosphere for his vents. The room was far too stuffy for a mech his size. However, he wasn't feeling in the mood for company, so he let his battle protocols and strategic module count and account for every 'secret' guard that followed him as he exited his room and the best way he could ditch them. He wanted some time to himself. He would like to check if his ship was still there so he can leave on his own, though the notion was more than doubtful. _Someone_ ought to have found it by now and stripped it for parts if nothing else. Not that it matters. He wouldn't be able to get to it before someone realizes where he's going due to the _fragging_ tracking device in the _Primus forsaken_ Autobot badge he can't take off his shoulder. He'd only end up in the Stocades again if he tried that. He rather more liked this illusion of a prison than an actual one, thanks.

_'Though don't I rather belong in Trypticon as a Decepticon?'_ Even if he wasn't an official one, he liked to _think_ himself as a Decepticon and would declare himself one if asked which faction he belonged to, _frag_ the Autobot badge on his shoulder.

Ditching his guards was rather easy. It was even easier slipping unnoticed out of the Academy dorms and the Academy and even its immediate grounds. Pit, leaving the grounds around Fortress Maximus was _easy_. Then again, that _did_ sound like actual laser fire coming from the simulated combat training area, so something big - or bad - must be happening. Not that Optimus particularly cares at this point. He just transformed and sped off on the streets of Iacon, not exactly sure where he was going. He just wanted to be away from it all, away from the fond memories and the reminders of his failure. He wasn't even sure where he was heading anymore and he still found he didn't care. The truck didn't stop until he found himself at his destination, no buildings or busy streets around him anymore, no mecha, no cleaning drones, nothing.

Nothing but Optimus and the gapping hole that was the Well of AllSparks, the place that supposedly lead straight to Primus' spark in the core of Cybertron. Optimus could do nothing but stare, not sure why he had come here or why the feeling of warm comfort and familiarity, of _home_ and _welcome_ settled in his spark as though he were once again in huge gray servos. His pedes lead him to the edge all of their own accord and he let them, sitting down and drawing his knees up to his chestplates, staring down into the abyss. He had never been here before. There were only satellite images of this place, the most sacred of locations of their people. Once, there had been a time when sparklings climbed out of the Well on their own instead of adult mecha building them protoforms and harvesting sparks from the Well to fill them with. Cyclonus had told him of those times, so many vorns ago, when everyone was equal for they were all the children of Primus. No castes, no classes, no functionism. They all made the same journey to life and to death. Optimus wondered what it must be like, climbing out of a hole, up a spiraling path, in near darkness with a bunch of others as small and as confused as you, only to enter a world of light where hardships began, no matter if its learning to speak or something harder. He had no memories of where he himself came from but surely at least his spark had to have come from this place?

_'But the AllSpark hasn't been in the well for centuries before Megatron found me,'_ Optimus frowned in thought down at the Well, as if it might give him an answer if he glared at it long enough. He sighed, placing his helm down on his knees and wondering how this was his life, why he was here and when he could go _home_.

_~Then come now, my little one.~_

Optimus nearly jumped right out of his plating, spark beating hard as he clambered to his pedes, looking around, searching for the source of the deep, rumbling, soothing voice that seemed to touch his very spark. The Well was as dark as it had ever been and he could so no one around. Not convinced, Optimus ignored the caressing ancient glyphs and activated his scanners, pushing them to their limits to search for the enemy. Nothing. He was as utterly alone as he has been since Elita offlined on Archa 7. Was he imagining things? Hallucinating? Was he finally losing his mind? How will he ever return to the Decepticons, broken and damaged and so utterly useless he might as well be a sparkling all over again? And if he can't go back ... Where will he go? He has no other home ...

_~Come to me, oh brightest of sparks. This world does not deserve you. It has hurt you enough.~_ There was that voice again, only now Optimus could tell it was coming from the Well, as it had lit up like a supernova. The red and blue bot inched towards the edge again, feeling his paint crawl as though it were liquid fire along the spots that the Autobots had repainted, so long ago, and a servo came up with a hiss to clutch at his left audio receptor, though the right one was burning just as much. Still, there was no way Optimus would risk someone sneaking up on him by covering them both, leaving him practically deaf to the world. He was Lord Optimus, the Decepticon Head Strategist, he was-

Yanked back from the edge of the Well by a strong, slim, _old_ servo without even realizing he had been seconds away from jumping to what may have been his death. The crawling feeling of fire stopped, as did the burning in his audials and Optimus looked towards the Well, finding it as it had been for the past several centuries: dark and empty and silent. But that voice ... It still echoed in his helm, assuring him that it had not been a dream. That didn't comfort him. He felt another thug and looked up at his savior, surprise coloring his face and his EM field upon finding that the strong grip belonged to none other than Alpha Trion, who was glaring at the Well of AllSparks as though it had personally offended it. As the ancient mech pulled him further away from the Well, Optimus could have sworn that the plating under his pedes rumbled in what could have very well been a harrumph. Okay, he was _definitely_ losing his mind if thoughts like that raced through his processor. Fan_fragging_tastic.

"What were you doing?" Trion's question broke him out of his thoughts and Optimus looked at the older mech with a confused frown. "How did you even get to this place? Why are you here?"

"I ... I don't know," he replied truthfully after a long pause. He didn't. He really, really didn't. All he'd thought about was wanting to _go home_ and somehow, he had ended up here, taking comfort in a hallucination and being yanked about by an old mech. _'How is this my life, again?'_ He couldn't help but ask himself, rubbing his audial still. He might not be looking at him anymore, but Optimus could _feel_ Alpha Trion's optics on him. "What are _you_ doing here, though? Don't you have the Hall of Records to run as well as Council meetings to sit in?"

"Last time, I was too late," Trion replied and Optimus whirled around to properly face him at the words, not sure why they ran so deep and thinking himself silly for it. Alpha Trion probably meant that someone had jumped and committed suicide here at the Well. There was no way he had anything to do with Optimus! ... Right? "I promised myself I would never be again. What were you _thinking_? Getting so close to the edge is _dangerous_! Lesser mecha than you have joined the AllSpark because of curiosity!" Well, that seemed to pretty much confirm Optimus' theory but the Grand Archivist was far from done. "Why were you so close? Did you want to jump? Because I can assure you it's not a quick way to offline and the fall isn't a short one."

"I wasn't going to jump!" He snapped and his elder companion just snorted.

"Sure looked like it from where _I_ was standing." He looked to where Optimus was still rubbing his audial and frowned, his free hand not holding Optimus' reaching out to gently pry the blue servo away so he could get a better look. He seemed to be frowning again, inspecting the area that had burned, but Optimus knew there was nothing there to suggest as such, as though the sensation had been a phantom warmth that had never actually been there. Optimus looked down to his wrists and found them still to be the plain, clear, straight cut transformation from blue to red. He was getting real freaked out by the nanoklik.

"I just thought ... I heard something ... And that there was a light," he defended himself weakly, looking away, unable to step back due to still being too close to the edge of the Well for his comfort. How was it that he was only now registering the warning from his battle protocols, stating he was in danger from falling off the ledge? Why had they been quiet up until now?

Alpha Trion's optics snapped to his face, searching it for deception, but before he could say anything, Optimus got a ping loud enough for them both to start and flinch apart, cutting the old mech off. Optimus gladly took the blessed interruption and answered the ping, finding a message from Ultra Magnus of all people in his inbox, asking him to meet him in Fortress Maximus' ship docks. Suspicion crawled through Optimus' spark but he sent an affirmative to the Autobot Supreme Commander before quickly excusing himself to the old mech, transforming and speeding away from the Well of AllSparks, well aware of Trion's optics on his retreating form long after he was out of sight.

Ultra Magnus waited for him at the agreed place, as solemn and serious and expressionless as ever, Autobot blue optics trained on Optimus as soon as the former cadet came into view. He nodded to the smaller bot and gestured for him to follow him as he turned down one of the halls that lead to the individual maintenance stations for each ship, Magnus Hammer and their pedes hitting the floor the only sound for a while as they walked. Then, the blue and white bot started talking.

"I had always had great expectations for you, Optimus, and an even greater faith in you to achieve greatness. You had so much potential that I always believed you'd make a great general, if not a Magnus as well." _'Yes, you and the whole Decepticon army, only they expect me to be their Head Strategist.'_ "I truly regret that you have made such a grave mistake. I wish you would have had lied during the trial, but what is done cannot be changed. You can never join the Elite Guard-" _'Thank the AllSpark for that, even if it would have assured me a position on the frontlines and an opportunity to go home or gather more intel for Shockwave.'_ "-with such a fatal mistake on your record. However, that doesn't mean you can't still serve in the army." _'Wait, what!?'_ Were his audials deceiving him? Was this another hallucination? "It would be a waste not to utilize your talents. Right foolish, if you ask me. Now, I can't put you back in the Elite Guard, nor can I put you on a battlefield without proper experience-" _'I've been leading the Decepticon armies on my own before I was out of my mechling frame! I have more experience than most of your officers! I have more victories under my belt than your best general!'_ "But I _can_ provide you with a ship and a crew." Hope surged through Optimus so hard and so suddenly that he couldn't stop it from being revealed in his EM field.

A ship ... A ship meant leaving Cybertron. A ship meant being out there, in space, where his comrades can finally reach him! It meant no more constant scrutiny by the Elite Guard! It meant as close to _freedom_ as Optimus was going to get until he tracks sown Lockdown and gets rid of the red badge in his shoulder! Even if he's not placed on a crucial battlefield, he's this much closer to finally going _home_! He turns towards Magnus with a complicated expression on his faceplates, which the older mech takes for disbelief and gratitude. Well, he wasn't exactly _wrong_, but there were so many other emotions mixed in there as well that the blue and white bot wouldn't be able to understand even if Optimus were to write them all down for better inspection.

So he just gave the red and blue mech a small, barely a twist of his lip plates smile and keyed open the doors in front of which they had stopped. "The rest is up to you, Optimus Prime."

And for some reason, that glyph describing his new promoted title felt wrong, the ancient glyphs making up his name in the escape pod back on Archa 7 coming to mind. But he didn't have the time to ponder it as the doors swooshed open and he got a first glimpse of his new team and ship. Optimus didn't know whether he should be excited, disappointed, scared or something in between ...

For his new ship was none other than Omega Supreme.


	11. Chapter 11

**Head Strategist**

**Summary: A sparkling discarded by its own people becomes one of the most powerful mechs in the universe, much to the shock of those who had thrown him away. Primus watches out for his children, no matter where they end up. And this discarded sparlking has the power to bring peace to a war that has been raging for eons. He only needs to survive.**

At two thousand two hundred and ten stellar cycles of age, Optimus had seen and lived through the strangest of things, done all sorts of jobs and learned all sorts of things, leading a decidedly military style of life. But _never_ before had he been reduced to a position of civilian nature such as being _space bridge repair bots_. It wasn't even a thing of pride that had him struggling to accept his fate, it was the sheer notion of being placed in a _civilian_ post that had Optimus' processor spinning.

Even as a sparkling, the most civilian thing Optimus had ever done or learned was reading and writing. Everything else was at least _somehow_ connected to the military and he wouldn't change that for anything. Living the life he had had afforded him an experience that none of the Autobots will gain unless another Great War begins. He had studied all sorts of fields, from strategy to medicine, from science to engineering and architecture, from history to politics. He had seen and studied and experienced it all. History and strategy may be his strongest suits, but he still had an average understanding of everything else. You don't study under Hook, Magnificus and Shockwave without coming out a mech with decent skills regarding their preferred fields. Pretty much the same could be said for his combat training and the skills that it resulted in. Strika, Megatron and Cyclonus were relentless until Optimus could stand his ground against any type of opponent, as his victory over Megazarak proved.

Though, he should probably prompt Starscream and Shockwave into designing a device that will keep the user safe from electrical attacks. That in itself would keep them safe from one of the Autobots' fiercest weapons and most competent warriors, Ultra Magnus with his Magnus Hammer. He would gladly rely his thoughts to the two scientists ...

If only he could contact them at all.

Optimus Prime may have been off of Cybertron and out of the Elite Guard's immediate grasp, but Ultra Magnus apparently wasn't as stupid as Optimus would have preferred. The Prime may be far away from anyone who would watch him like a metalohawk, but that didn't mean he wasn't in _some_ way monitored. He didn't know if Ratchet, the field medic assigned to his team, was in on it but the ship was bugged to its very core in a manner that prevented the spying devices from being removed unless you want the whole ship to blow up under your pedes. The Autobots were apparently expecting an escape attempt and had acted accordingly. Optimus begrudgingly had to admit it was the most competent thing they had done since he started dealing with them, back before he became the Head Strategist. Go figure.

And Optimus _didn't_ want to blow up the Orion, even if it wasn't his only means of transportation for light-years to come. Magnus had played on Optimus love of history by placing him on the very ship that had tipped the war into the Autobots' favor, though he didn't realize how dangerous that was as well. It was a good question whether the Decepticons would recognize the Omega Sentinel, but Optimus, ever the history geek, sure did and at first glimpse of the orange and red ship, too. Say what you will about it being for the good of the Decepticon Cause to destroy Omega Supreme while he was in this vulnerable state, but Optimus wasn't going to blow him up. He was living - though in deep modified stasis - history and he'll be damned before he lets him be destroyed.

Ratchet, too, was a piece of history that sent excitement through Optimus' spark. The grumpy old medic's reputation preceded him. The Hatchet was legendary amongst both factions for being a downright military worker out in the field, saving cases any other medic would have long since written off as a lost cause. He was older than the war and had used to run a pro bono clinic in the Dead End, a highly respected medic even the ever prideful Hook and the self obsessed Knock Out couldn't help but praise - read gush over - if given the chance. When he had been connected to the Grid, Optimus had read up on the Project Omega a little and knew how Ratchet came to be Omega Supreme's mentor bot. You could say Optimus respected the grumpy old bot but he had to be extra careful about what he said when around the ambulance. He rather doubted Ratchet would appreciate the ideals Optimus was brought up with. _Not_ propaganda, but Optimus sure as pit _was_ partial to the Decepticons, whether because they raised him or because he didn't agree with the government system they had started the war against didn't matter. Ratchet probably wouldn't understand and would just cause him problems.

Besides the two relics of the Great War, Optimus was saddled with two younglings as well. _Again_. Only they were even younger, only two hundred stellar cycles old and bootcamp washouts, no less. Now, Optimus didn't really particularly _care_ about their age or origin stories or even how they got dumped into a space bridge repair crew, but he very much minded the lack of experience or any concrete skills that they came with, or rather _without_. He did a little research on them, just so he knows who's he going to be dealing with. Despite Ratchet being a war veteran, Optimus was by far their best combatant and he had to know how hard his job will be, taking care of those two. Ratchet he knew had the sense not to head into battle without proper backup or preparations. The other two ...

Bumblebee, minibot, racer model, built for speed but not racing speed like some bots Optimus had seen. Yellow in color with Autobot blue optics and little horns on his helm, he was the exact same model as Cliffjumper, a red minibot Optimus had shared a few classes with in the Academy. Speedsters usually want to be in Intelligence, as they were the best Autobot Intelligence Agents in the field, but Bumblebee had claimed to wanting to go fight on the frontlines. He was equipped with a pair of electrical stingers that, even when upgraded to battle grade, wouldn't do much against a warframe frontliner. His test results from joining bootcamp suggested that he had absolutely no combat or proper survival skills whatsoever - which wasn't too uncommon, as only warframes came online with such skills and everyone else would have to learn but _everyone_ should have _some_ defense or survival protocols and know how to _use_ them - and his intelligence is average. The psychological oval from Rung suggested he had a size complex and was extremely impulsive, along with showing signs of having trouble with authority. He should be thankful that he didn't fall into Optimus' lap when he proudly called himself Head Strategist, or else he'd be subjected to either rigorous training or cleaning the cargo bay for the rest of his function until he got his attitude straight. He definitely wasn't battle ready, let alone for the frontlines.

His best friend Bulkhead, though was his best redeeming feature. The minibot had revealed a Decepticon spy in the ranks of the new cadets - as if, Optimus thought with an internal snort and a roll of his optics; no Decepticon Intelligence Agent would be caught so easily, _especially_ not by leaving their communication transmitter somewhere _anyone_ could find it. Though Optimus was pleased to note his reckon and suggestions helped with _finally_ getting a spy into Iacon and the bootcamp, no less! He wondered who got the mission, though - and was on the 'fast track into the Elite Guard', but he took the fall for Bulkhead so the large mech wouldn't be thrown out of the bootcamp for what was essentially an accident - as he read their misadventures in bootcamp under Sentinel's tutelage (_Primus_, did he pity them for that), Optimus decided he could come to like them. Anyone who dropped a training prop on Sentinel was in Optimus' good graces - though that resulted in them _both_ being shipped off to repair space bridges, much to Bumblebee's horror.

Bulkhead, though, had to be living his dream. Optimus was impressed. The unassuming looking young bot was quite possibly the greatest processor in space bridge technology since the things were built, scoring higher on the test than anyone before. He was a simple, humble, nice mech from the energon farms who had come to Autobootcamp for the sole purpose of becoming a space bridge technician. If he had made it through to Kup's courses, he'd probably have been sent to the Academy's science division and soon employed to work on the Space Bridge Nexus. Where everything else _not_ concerning space bridges or any relatively relatable technology, Bulkhead was just a tad bit on the slow side, but much smarter and more perceptive than his little yellow friend. He had been rather shy around Optimus in the beginning but loosened up when it became clear Optimus and Sentinel had a completely different way of leading. He was obedient and strong and knew his way around the damage or problems they needed to solve.

Optimus often worried about him, though. From what he had seen, both his new subordinates were young and naive, but Bulkhead was a sweet mech that could easily be hurt by harsh words or inconsideration and Bumblebee was too oblivious at times regarding how his words or actions may affect others, especially Bulkhead. Not only that but where the yellow speedster went, Bulkhead followed to for his 'little buddy'. They were good friends, there was no doubt about that, but Bumblee needed to get his helm out of his aft and Bulkhead needed to grow a spinalstrut if they wanted such a friendship to survive, otherwise Bumblebee will talk Bulkhead to march with him straight into their own deaths. Optimus would rather not see it happen while they were under _his_ command.

One thousand stellar cycles with the three of them and he still didn't know what exactly to think of them. The feeling seemed to be mutual, most of the time.

The final member of his little ragtag crew was a cyberninja that was never actually on the crew roaster. They simply found Prowl while they were fixing some random space bridge and they kind of blew his ship up, so Optimus offered he tag along. He was a recent addition to Optimus' ever growing helmache. A natural loner but capable of working with others, if Optimus estimation of him is correct, Prowl was a deadly force of ninja skills the likes of which the Prime had never actually seen before. Cyberninjas were a rare thing while Master Yoketron's dojo was still in business of training them, but ever since the old bot's death several groons before the Deceoticons found Optimus - at Lockdown's servos, while he was getting a shipment of protoforms for Megatron, no less - cyberninjas became more valuable and rare than pure energon. They were usually neutral, but Yoketron had sided with the Autobots in order to keep his dojo, or so Lockdown said. Tuns out Prowl had been his last student and had never finished his training. That didn't mean the black and gold two-wheeler was any less dangerous and skilled. Optimus felt he could relax a little ever since he joined the crew. One more competent fighter of the same skill level, if not better (in certain areas), as him meant that even if they _did_ run into trouble, they'll be able to get out alive.

The problem with Prowl, though, Optimus mused as he cleaned his blaster - he bought it on the black market a few stellar cycles after they'd left Cybertron - was that the cyberninja was too intelligent and too perceptive for his own, or Optimus', good. He had almost immediately zeroed in on hos differently Optimus acted compared to any other Autobots he'd ever met and for some reason found content in that. They were quite the two of a kind sort of deal, Optimus and Prowl, neither really wanting to be in the situation they found themselves in. Prowl was actually the missing bot everyone in the Academy assumed Optimus to be, the one that had evaded joining the army. Turns out he became a ninjabot and learned to respect Master Yoketron, even though he wanted _nothing_ to do with the Autobots. The badge was as slapped onto him - though it was more like he had no choice but to online with it like civilianframes do now, ever since the start of the war - as it had been on Optimus: against his will. He, though, found a place for himself in Yoketron's dojo and was content to stay there until Lockdown killed the old bot. Prowl had arrived just in time to see the results and attempt to save his Master. Prowl didn't join the Autobots like most of Yoketron's remaining newer students did, instead setting out to 'find what he was lacking' or something like that, which ultimately lead to him being found by Optimus' team. He had no interest in the others, but Optimus could at times feel the cyberninja's gaze on himself when the other thought Optimus didn't know he was there. As if, between all the Decepticons' paranoia Optimus had quite a good grasp at constantly being on alert. His battle protocols were always primed and ready.

What surprised Optimus, though, that despite his obvious interest and curiosity, Prowl never approached him. Not that he _wanted_ the two-wheeler to start asking questions. That would just be a disaster.

They kind of fit together, as a strange group of misfits. They didn't really belong anywhere else, so they belonged perfectly together, only this time, Optimus was determined not to get attached. Not to mention that he _did_ belong somewhere, even though the chances of him ever going home became slimmer with each day. They always traveled in the exact _opposite_ way than the Decepticons might be and Optimus often wondered if he was considered dead. He wouldn't be surprised even if his spark ached at the thought of being forgotten and ... _discarded_. Primus, he _hated _that word. It had started this whole mess, after all. Fragging Megazarak.

"Are you seriously still watching that old cruddy holovideo- whoa! Easy there, kid! And where in the pit did you get the blaster?" Ratchet asked with his servos in the air when Optimus whirled around, startled, his gun pointed directly at Ratchet's spark with ease of practice. The former Head Strategist of the Decepticons reset his optics at him before lowering his gun, casually examining it for show before grinning up at Ratchet from where he was sitting in the captain's chair.

"I bought it some time ago and sure I am! I need to comprise a list of reasons and solid arguments why this is slagging propaganda and not history to annoy whoever made it with more flames. It's a hobby I find relieves stress better than any gunfight, sparring session or cable massage."

Ratchet just stared at him and Optimus grinned wider, knowing the red and white medic will _never_ be used to an _Autobot_ finding something explosive/violent/dangerous _relaxing_ and _fun_. Optimus never corrected him or anyone else about the Autobot thing, it just wasn't worth the wasted energy, instead letting them come to their own conclusions, much like he had done in bootcamp and the Academy. People's own imagination is the truth's worst enemy and deception's greatest ally, after all. Prejudice is a wonderful thing to take advantage of when needing to blend in with a bunch like the Autobots.

"And just how the frag did you afford a _gun_? Our groonly finances for maintenance and fuel are the bare minimum we need and I didn't see you use any of those shanix for your little blaster!"

The Prime rolled his optics and refrained from correcting Ratchet about the quality of his chosen firearms. "I bought it using my _own_ credits. The Elite Guard could strip me of any possessions when they caught me, but they couldn't reach my monetary account. I bought this little thing for protection's sake." He looked up at the medic, the only one on their little team that knew Optimus had a strange background story that he wasn't sharing because Ultra Magnus had told him to keep the young Prime in sight. Optimus grinned all over again, a certain excitement making his optics light up brighter. "Wanna fix the Orion up a little? No one needs to know." Besides, they weren't due back to Cybertron for another five hundred stellar cycles

Ratchet just gapped at him but before he could reply, their two youngest members pinged for help and Optimus sighed, putting the blaster away and getting up to his pedes. He stretched a little, refraining from groaning as some of his kibble did it for him, disgust running through him. He could do exercises all he wants but without a proper training session at least once a decacycle, he'll lose his edge soon. It was a miracle he'd stayed in shape this long as it was. He strolled through the ship halls towards the nearest airlock with Ratchet in tow, the two silent until they got off of the ship and to Bumblebee's and Bulkhead's location on the giant rock that the space bridge was built upon, just in time to see the both of them fall down from a considerable height due to Bumblebee's not so well thought out rescue attempt, Ratchet grumbling about 'kids these days' as he moved over to check on the two. Optimus looked around but Prowl was no where in sight, which didn't mean Optimus wasn't aware he was _close_. _Thank_ you battle protocols.

"Let's just get this over with and leave this Primus forsaken sector," he told them after a little bicker fest between the medic and the yellow speedster, taking out his ax and hacking at the rock formation in front of him, calling for the others to put some effort into it. "You too, Prowl." He casually moved out of the way when one of those golden throwing stars sailed past his head. "Use a warning next time. Somebot else might get hurt."

"A warning would ruin my timing," the cyberninja casually replied and Optimus just rolled his optics, going back to the closest to a workout he could have while Bulkhead commented why anyone would even want to transwarp to this sector in the first place for a space bridge to be there at all.

"Because it used to be a strategic stronghold during the early stages of the Great War. These rocks were once rich with ores that the Autobots used to strengthen their armor and the Decepticons to repair any ships that might have been damaged. The only way they could _get_ to the ores was if they transwarped here, since the Decepticons held most of this sector under a tight leash. They abandoned it when-"

"Boring!" Bumblebee exclaimed, looking around for more rocks to zap with his stingers. "Who cares about something that happened way back when, anyways? It's the present that counts! The past is in the past and it's use_less_."

Optimus turned around to give Bumblebee a verbal lashing for that one when the space bridge behind him suddenly came to life, the charge it gathered sending them all flying as the asteroid they were on started quaking. Prowl used those boosters of his to fly away from the rubble while Ratchet, Bulkhead and Bumblebee tried to save themselves. Battlemast snapping in place and battle protocols singing, Optimus engaged his ax, catching rocks head for Ratchet with a net fired from his forearm, smashing rocks left and right, catching prowl when the boosters suddenly ran out of power - not unexpected, given how low their rations were - before turning his attention to the space bridge, extending the handle of his ax so he can use it like a pole and catapult himself closer through the flying debris, taking aim and firing his grappler. The blue claw like tips hit the discharge button on the bridge's controls and it lost all power, going dormant once more, leaving the Autobots watching him with jaws on the floor.

"Impressive," Prowl commented, closing Bulkhead's jaw for him, the green bot awed.

"Where did you learn moves like that?"

Optimus' got a distant glimmer in his optics as he thought back to his hard, tiring joors of training aboard the Nemesis and nostalgia twinged his spark. He looked away from his teammates as he answered. "I ... trained at the Autobot Academy."

"Then what's an Academy bot doing on a maintenance crew?" Ratchet asked as he looked up from where he had fixed a small wound on the back of Bumblebee's shoulder pauldron, the yellow bot immediately stepping closer to the Prime they had _never_ seen properly in action.

"Yeah! Shouldn't you be leading the Elita Guard or something?"

But before Optimus could answer, something drew his attention to the side, to an unassuming pile of rocks and he turned towards it, unsure of the pull he felt, when said pile or rocks started glowing from within. The rest of the world seemed to fade away and Optimus was reminded of his last solar cycle on Cybertron, when Alpha Trion had pulled him away from the Well at the last second, even as he just as dazedly walked towards the glowing pile of rocks. He engaged his ax again and lifted it above his helm, heard Ratchet yell "Prime! No!" in time to react accordingly but ... He didn't _want_ to. Something was compelling him to descend the energon ax down on the minerals blocking the source of that soothing light that was _calling_ to him in a way he couldn't explain and he didn't resist the call.

_'Oh,'_ Optimus thought as the light shot through the big hole he'd made, the object inside now fully visible. _'Oh, wow.'_ He wasn't sure how to react. He felt the others gather around him to stare down at their unexpected find, the space bridge and Optimus background story all but forgotten as they gawked at the source of the light. There was only one more thought that could register as a reaction in Optimus processor and that was- _'Megatron's going to be so torqued off.'_

For before him lay the AllSpark, unprotected save for the orange colored casing, glowing like the Well of AllSparks had in his probably-hallucination, about a thousand stellar cycles ago. And then, something happened that left Optimus between crying in joy and frustration both.

_::Teletraan-1 to Optimus Prime. An unidentified vessel of Decepticon origin approaches. ETA two kliks.::_

_'Well, frag me.'_


	12. Chapter 12

**Head Strategist**

**Summary: A sparkling discarded by its own people becomes one of the most powerful mechs in the universe, much to the shock of those who had thrown him away. Primus watches out for his children, no matter where they end up. And this discarded sparlking has the power to bring peace to a war that has been raging for eons. He only needs to survive.**

They quickly loaded the AllSpark onto the ship and hastily made their way to the bridge, taking off as fast as they could, Ratchet explaining to the other bots how the AllSpark could have even ended up on a random hunk of space rock in the first place, Teletraan-1 delivered the news that had Optimus' spark skipping harmonics like it was a game.

The Nemesis ...

_'Megatron ... '_

After several centuries of no contact, Optimus has the chance to be in those gray servos once again. He had to fight back a broken keen just at the thought of the comfort and safety and feeling of _home_ so close by, his reaction completely out of place with the badge on his shoulder and the color of his optics or even the company he kept. Pit, he forgot he wasn't Head Strategist Optimus anymore, but Optimus Prime, Autobot Academy washout who got his friend killed because he trusted two _kids_ to listen to him because it was _serious_. All he cared about at the moment was that he was _home_. He _belonged_ on the bridge of the Nemesis, he had always belonged there.

And then that dream shattered when the Nemesis started shooting at them. Optimus knew the ship's designs like the back of his servo, so he knew they would be dead already had the aim been to destroy their ship - one of Nemesis' cannons was like the third of Omega Supreme's massive body and _very powerful_ \- which could only mean one thing. _'You've finally found the AllSpark, huh, Megatron? And you won't be letting it fall back into Autobot servos.'_ They were _so_ screwed it wasn't even funny.

"Teletraan-1, activate evasive maneuvers! Now!" He yelled, opening an interactive interface at his station, typing away orders and commands even as the ship lurched dangerously to comply to his verbal order. His companions held on for dear life as they tried to evade the much bigger ship. Omega Supreme might be massive by mech standards and ships made by organics, but just the height difference of the halls in a Decepticon ship would make them twice as big and Nemesis was a _command_ ship, Megatron's own personal transport for destruction. Say what you want about new ships, but Nemesis was more than a relic of the past, it was the representation of sheer Decepticon might. As long as the Nemesis could still take to the skies, conquering Cybertron was within sight for the Decepticons, even if there was no sold strategy from Optimus or the firm leadership of Megatron or even the destruction laid out by the DJD.

Not even a fully functional Omega Sentinel had managed to knock the Nemesis out of the sky.

A blast of laser fire grazed the ship's plating on the left side and it caused the ship to shake like it was nothing more than an organic sheet of 'paper' in the wind. Optimus grit his dentae, finishing the stream of coding by typing in a frequency he knew by spark and sending the hail to the much larger ship. He was quite possibly the only fully calm bot on the shipformer, as he could see even Prowl was tense and Ratchet _knew_ who they were facing and knew he had every reason to be afraid. Another near hit rocked the ship, further spreading the panic.

"Oh my Primus, we're going to die!" Bumblebee wailed, gripping his horns.

"Not if I can help it! I've hailed the Nemesis," he told the other four bots, who turned incredulous stares at him as if in practiced union. "Let's hope Megatron's up for a little _talk_." _'Just you wait until I lay it in on him, attacking a s_pace bridge repair crew_ like they were the Elite Guard.'_

"_Megatron_!? You want to talk with _Megatron_!?" Bumblebee turned around to fully face him, staring at him like his logic processor was glitched. "The legendary leader of the Decepticons that eats Autobot protoforms for breakfast?! You want to talk to _him_!?"

"It's not exactly as if we can fight him," Prowl pointed out, holding onto his own station as the ship dove out of the way of a blast.

"Frag, he's not answering!"

"What makes you think he'd even answer you, Bossbot?" Bulkhead asked half curiously as they all watched Optimus send out a hail again with the same results.

"Because I'm hailing his personal frequency," the Prime replied casually, making them all yelp an undignified "What!?" that he throughly ignored, too engrossed in searching for the nearest escape route to pay attention to them.

"Where the frag did you get his _personal comm frequency_!?" The old medic practically screeched, staring at the red, blue and silver mech like he was crazy or ... something else. Optimus didn't look at him for longer than a second, though it was enough to see some unease as those blue optics stared at him, before returning to his work, his tone casual but dead serious as he replied.

"That's a very long and very _complicated_ story that I could either tell you or try to save all our afts before we're vaporized by the Nemesis." The others, thankfully, shut up and watched uneasily as Optimus, indeed, tried to save them, holding on for the bumpy ride they had to sit through, everyone except Optimus and Prowl jumped when they received a hail. Optimus looked up, hope flaring in his spark, only to be squished when he saw it wasn't from a frequency he _wanted_ to see the most at that moment. He answered it, looking back down at his screen, returning focus to the task at hand. "What do you want, Magnus? I'm a little busy at the moment."

Ultra Magnus, unlike his team, was used to the lack of respect Optimus showed him on a daily basis ... Or, well, every time their paths crossed, anyway. He didn't bat an optic at the gawking mechs around the distracted Prime, instead addressing Optimus as though the others didn't exist. "Optimus Prime, why have I received a report stating you've tried hailing a foreign warship _without_ going through the proper channels to ask for permission?"

"Can we discuss your little stalking game of me later? Because I really _am_ busy right now. We have a Decepticon warship tailing us and we have some rather _precious_ cargo, so they sure as pit won't be leaving us alone. So either send backup-" _'There's no telling what will happen to this ship otherwise, since Megatron is obviously in the shoot-first-ask-questions-later mood and isn't answering his comms. Strika will _kill_ him if he kills me, so asking the Elite Guard for help is the lesser of two evils right now.'_ "Or buzz off. I don't have time right now to deal with you."

"Is he for real? I'm not glitching, right?"

"If you are, then we _both_ are, little buddy."

"_That's so COOL!_"

"The Decepticons know better than to venture into the Autobot Commonwealth's space. It's probably just a lost scouting ship, nothing more. I doubt they'd risk-"

"With all due respect - which is none whatsoever - Ultra Magnus, we're carrying the AllSpark and I rather _doubt_ that the Nemesis is a mere _lost scouting ship_." And with that, Optimus hung up on the Autobot Supreme Commander, finding that the blue and white mech was only wasting his time and dividing his attention to really far less important things than the situation at hand. The most alarming being that Teletraan-1 was sending him the visual of an approaching smaller aircraft whose design Optimus would know in the depths of stasis. He would have preferred it if it was only displayed on his monitor so at least his crew wouldn't be petrified out of their minds.

"By the AllSpark," Ratchet muttered, looking rightfully frightened and Prowl seemed to be gripping the edge of his station a little too tightly.

"You never said he was so big," Bulkhead commented somewhere between awe and fear, Bumblebee never too far to add a comment of his own.

"You never said he could _fly_!"

Optimus refrained from pointing out thatalmost _all_ warframes could fly, but decided it was too much trouble, especially given that he was desperately trying to reactivate Omega Supreme's defense systems. Even a flare grenade would have come right handy right now, but _no_. Autobot High Command just _had_ to shut down all defense protocols and weapon systems on Omega Supreme in the interest of 'preserving energon during Cybertron's shortage crisis'. Primus, but he hated those cheapskates! The Deceoticons _never_ cut the energon supply to their weapons systems, be it their own or of their ships! They rationed the energon, drinking fuel and oil instead of energon until they could get a new shipment. They _never_ let their battle efficiency drop below 80% if they can help it and that's the _worst_ case scenario. The Autobots regularly operated at barely 60% efficiency unless it was an Elite Guard unit going against the Decepticons. Optimus had almost always known this. It was why he won so many battles so easily. He used the Autobots' own policies against them. Shockwave had a _brilliant_ spy network.

"My overrides aren't working!" He yelled in frustration, nearly falling out of his seat when a blast actually hit the hull of the ship. Thankfully, it was from Megatron's Fusion Cannon and not one of Nemesis', or else they'd be scrap. Optimus looked towards the screen monitoring Megatron's movements, only to see the warlord seemingly pass them by, exiting the range of the camera. "Slag!" He ignored Ratchet yelling at him for slamming a fist down on the blue button on his control panel or the two bootcamp dropouts commenting to each other as to why Megatron hadn't attacked them, only glancing up towards the ceiling when it started heating up before he took hold of the two manual controls for the ship's grapples to try and throw Megatron off. His first loyalty may be to his former caretaker, but if Megatron wasn't going to use his processor beyond his battle algorithms, then Optimus had no choice other than to throw him off. He'll kill them sll if this continues.

Optimus really didn't want to find out if his death was an acceptable loss or, worse yet, a desired one. He'd rather never return to the Decepticons thinking he would be welcomed there than return and find out no one wanted him there anymore. Call it cowardly, if you will, but that was the only place he truly belonged. If he wasn't welcome there anymore, he might as well return to Archa 7 and let the spiders finish what they had started - twice already - but were denied. It would be a far more merciful fate than finding out your only 'family' hated your existence.

The grapples were bigger than Megatron size-wise, yes, but that didn't necessarily make them stronger. Sure, they were created with it in mind to move giant hunks of rock away from the ship or even lock two compatible ships together and lock them into place for extended periods of time. However, they weren't built to actually _hold_ an awake and struggling _Cybertronian warframe_ for any amount of time and it was only Optimus moving the controls with Megatron's own movements that prevented the gray mech from taking hold of the grapples and tearing them off. He knew he won't be able to continue this for much longer but at least the Nemesis stopped firing at them now that the Decepticon leader was standing on its target. Optimus briefly wondered just who and how many Decepticons there were on the warship before he had to focus back on grappling with Megatron. The Head Strategist knew he couldn't hold on like this for any extended period of time. The pistons weren't strong enough to hold out against the strain put on them. Warframes were made to be able to wage war against anything that's thrown at them. Time was running out and Optimus didn't know what to do-

An explosion suddenly shook the ship, finally managing to blow one of their engines and throwing the entire ship into a nosedive towards a really small planetoid. The autopilot was disengaged, the Autobots were holding on to the nearest secure surface, which just so happened to be the main consul in Optimus case and he ordered Teletraan-1 to give manual control over to him.

"Can you even _do_ that?!" Bumblebee asked and Optimus, once again, paid no heed to him, instead pulling on the stirring controls with all of his might, just barely managing to right their course enough that they skidded over the surface of the giant rock instead of downright crashing into it. The remaining engine was too weak to take them back up at a safe flying altitude, but the planetoid was seriously small and they soon saw its 'edge' being launched off of it and towards the orange space bridge in sight.

"They're not granting us access, Bossbot!" Bulkhead called from where he was reading from his station even as he held on for dear functioning, not an easy task with his servo design, and Optimus wondered if he was actually going to offline with a fragging Autobot insignia on his shoulderstrut.

_'This isn't fair! I've never even learned anything about my origin! I'll never get to be with my friends again! I never got to go back _home_!'_

Suddenly, his spark lurched and he let out a startled gasp just as a beam of light struck the space bridge in front of his optics. He had no hopes of stirring their damaged and smoking ship off course of the acting up space bridge - a very dangerous happenstance indeed - so instead he hoped with all of his spark that the suddenly active bridge will take them somewhere _safe_. And then they were flying into its vortex and everything went black. When he onlined his optics again, looking through the windows revealed a sector he didn't recognize, something that always put him ill at ease. It was never a good thing when you don't know where you are or your general surroundings. You can't plan or strategize against something you know nothing about. One thing was sure, though. They were approaching an organic planet and there was no way they can make a proper landing with the damage the ship had sustained.

_'Well, at least it's not Archa 7,'_ he thought to himself as he sat up, looking around the bridge. "Is everyone alright?" Bumblebee and Bulkhead were nowhere to be seen, probably having flown out through the door during the rough, unplanned for transwarp, Ratchet was struggling to his pedes with a grunt and Prowl was already standing with his back straight as though he hadn't fallen over at all. _'I wonder what happened to Megatron?'_

The screech of his battle protocols was all the warning he had before a familiar clawed servo grabbed the back of his neck cables and he was whirled around to face the torqued off but always oh-so-calm Lord of the Decepticons. "The AllSpark ... Where is it?" Optimus stared blankly at him for a second, as if not understanding what the war mech was saying, causing Megatron to squeeze his neck cables tighter, making Optimus grunt in pain. "I grow impatient."

_'He doesn't recognize me,'_ Optimus realized with growing dread even as he fired a grappler towards the controls and deactivated the artificial gravity, allowing him to wriggle out of Megatron's grasp. This was perhaps the first time he _didn't_ want to be in those familiar servos. _'Between the repaint, the Autobot blue optics and the signal this damned badge is giving off, I'm not like myself at all.'_ It's not like his frame model was particularly _rare_ or special or anything. There were plenty civilian semi-trucks like him on Cybertron and in the Autobot army. What had always made Optimus stand out was his lack of faction symbol, his unique paint job and the fact that his optics were a deeper shade of blue than the shade Autobots all sported due to the coding dictated by their badges. No wonder Megatron didn't recognize his Head Strategist. It didn't hurt any less to be so overlooked.

The ensuing struggle was comical, with Megatron trashing their afts and Optimus yelling criticism at his crew either for lack of common sense, teamwork or plain common decency in alerting your ally that you're about to throw something at the enemy in this much close quarters. And as if the situation wasn't bad enough, someone hit the throttle and they were now set on a sure, accelerating course towards the organic world bellow. Entering its atmosphere was tough and unpleasant, but not nearly enough as slamming with your back into a hard metal wall and when having a warframe practically step on you while pointing a wicked sharp sword in your face. Optimus would have used the rocket propulsion option to give himself more strength in fending off the incoming sword had the dangerous end of that particular mod not been digit-tips away from his faceplate. Even his mask covering his face wouldn't prevent half of it melting under the heat if he were exposed to it for a prolonged period of time that he'd definitely need in order to push the Decepticon off. Desperately, he pinged Megatron on his personal comm frequency and rightfully grew irritated when the mech didn't answer.

"Primus _damn_ it, Megatron! _Answer_ your _slagging_ comm link!"

That, apparently, startled Megatron enough to pause in his trying to kill Optimus, those red optics focusing in on him. The warframe stared down at him for a few moments before he rest his optics and they lit up with realization. "_Optimus_? Is that really _you_?"

"Fragging _finally_!" The Prime grunted, sighing in relief when Megatron took away his sword and stepped back, not offering him a hand up because, well ... A good part of his servo _not_ holding a sword had been blown off in the explosion and had then been further sliced off by Prowl. The warlord looked like he didn't know how to properly react to seeing Optimus after a thousand stellar cycles apart, but he seemed to remember pretty well that when _Optimus_ finally lost his temper and yelled, you were better off not getting in his way.

"What are you doing on an Autobot re-purposed warship? Why aren't you on Cybertron!? We've sent a spy to search for you _centuries_ ago! Why didn't you ever call again!? We feared you were _dead_!"

"It's a long, complicated, messy pit of a story involving insubordinate Autobot mechlings, Archa 7 - _don't_," he interrupted the other when Megatron made as if to explode about _that_ particular aspect of the story. "A crazy Grand Archivist, a manipulative Magnus and some half rotten luck. I didn't meet our spy but whoever they are, they should be more careful. Bumblebee almost caught the-"

The poor, abused ship gave another violent lurch, sending the two mechs flying through the air and hitting into the opposite wall of the cargo bay. As if to prove his statement of rotten luck correct, one of them had somehow hit the release on the airlock and the hatch opened, the air pressure trying to such them out of the ship. Optimus somehow managed to stop their descent by slicing his ax into the metal wall of the long tunnel ejected, but his ax seemed to be, for the first time in his function, too sharp for his liking as it started sliding along the wall, the metal not strong enough to hold both their weight against the sucking air currents. Both Emperor and Lord of Destruction of the Decepticons looked out of the fast approaching end of the tunnel and saw the fire caused by the friction of the air resistance and knew neither was going to survive falling through the planet's atmosphere outside of a sturdy ship. Their battle protocols made the exact same calculations at the exact same time, but Megatron reacted quicker.

"You must survive for our Decepticons," the gray mech said, gave Optimus a small, sad smile before suddenly unwrapping Optimus' legs from where he had been trying to cling onto Megatron. The war mech was instantly sucked out into the atmosphere just as they reached the very end of the tunnel, gone before Optimus could even properly register why he had fired a grappler out in an attempt to catch the sacrificial fool.

"Megatron! _No_!"

But it was already far too late. The gray warframe was gone. Optimus wondered whether he had somehow wronged Primus for the deity to just keep on taking and taking from him and he wanted nothing more than to just _let go_ and be done with it, for what sort of life was one where you constantly lost things and people you cared about? But he knew he couldn't do that. He couldn't give up. The Decepticons have just lost their Lord Megatron, their supreme leader, the mech they trusted the most to return them to Cybertron. They couldn't lose Lord Optimus, the second most trusted mech regarding this task, too! The Decepticons were his now. He had been Megatron's heir. He had to survive. For their people!

Not to mention that there were still four bots counting on him right here and now.

_'I need to get back into the ship!'_ So with a heavy spark, he turned away from the spot he'd last seen Megatron alive in and instead started climbing his way back through the tunnel. It was near impossible. The air current was too powerful. He wasn't made to withstand something like this! But he refused to give up! _'Just ... a ... little ... _more_!'_ He crawled his way in, growing more exhausted each time he sank in his ax into the metal underneath him and pulled his chassis up, infinitely glad for his climbing mod on his pedes as they could sink in and hold his weight. But he was tired. His _spark_ was tired. _'I won't make it,'_ he realized with panic and sorrow in equal measure. _'I'm not strong enough.'_ He honestly thought he was going to lose his grip any klik now when the AllSpark lit up in the cargo bay again, shooting a beam of energy straight at him. He closed his optics, preparing instinctively for some form of impact or blast, but instead only felt that strange warmth he had felt only twice before: at the Well and when tracing the ancient glyphs depicting his name on the escape pod. _'The AllSpark? It's helping me ... '_

It took him almost no time at all to finally climb back fully into the ship and close the airlock before he was running towards the bridge. He may be a Decepticon at spark but these four Autobots were innocent enough to deserve saving. "Into the stasis pods! Now! Quick!"

"But what about you?" Bumblebee called out even as everyone else moved to follow his orders. When Optimus looked out through the windows of the bridge, he saw they were heading straight for what looked like a highly populated organic city. His calculations suggested there were at least a couple millions living there.

"I'll come right after I stir us away from this populated area! Now _go_!" The yellow minibot hesitated before complying and Optimus' felt his spark settle as soon as he saw that they were all safely locked in their stasis pods. That will save their lives during and after the impact. The Prime turned back to the task at hand, murmuring under his intake as his servos grabbed hold of the controls. "If you can hear me, help me one more time."

His frame glowed with the AllSpark's energy as it gave him the strength to pull the ship up and make it over the city bellow. He vented a sigh of relief before looking for a good crash landing location. He figured the nearby lake will have to do. If anything, it should conceal their presence from the organics if they turn out to be hostile. It should provide enough reprieve until they can wake up and regroup.

When he entered his own pod and as it closed, Optimus wondered if he'll be found by the Decepticons like the _first_ time around and went into deep stasis with a smile and a tear of coolant rolling down his cheek plate.

Then there was _nothingness_.


	13. Chapter 13

**Head Strategist**

**Summary: A sparkling discarded by its own people becomes one of the most powerful mechs in the universe, much to the shock of those who had thrown him away. Primus watches out for his children, no matter where they end up. And this discarded sparlking has the power to bring peace to a war that has been raging for eons. He only needs to survive.**

Waking up from deep stasis to the emergency alarm blaring in his audials about an intruder wasn't the least bit pleasant of an affair. Finding out it had been fifty stellar cycles since they'd all went under was even less so. Finding out they would have to help the natives fight off an organic monster thing really didn't put him in a good mood and his mood only soured further when the organic, Sari, ended up somehow getting a powerful artifact with the AllSpark's life giving energies in the form of a very useful little key she carried around her neck. At least she saved Prowl and provided them all with a place to stay besides the ship on the bottom of Lake Eerie or whatever its called.

Optimus was just glad that everyone survived this time around.

_'Well,'_ his mind unhelpfully reminded him. _'Not _everyone_.'_ He told it to shut up so he wouldn't think about his loss. He, unfortunately, didn't have the time to mourn, as there were plenty of other things vying for his attention and he was in far too unknown territory to allow himself to be distracted by things he could do nothing about. There were more pressing matters he had to attend to.

One of them being relations with the dominant organic species of this planet, called 'humans'. The bipedal organics were about the size of his digits or a little bit taller and came in all different kinds of packages. Sari Sumdac, who had practically taken the role of their unofficial (and not at all legally acceptable) liaison, tried explaining human customs to them, from their various fashion styles to their general politics, though she wasn't very well versed in the latter. She did provide him with reading material on the subject when he asked her, though, so that at least helped him understand humans a bit better. He also asked for all sorts of other ... 'books' regarding various topics about humanity, from biology to psychology to sociology. They were going to be stuck here for who knows how long, after all, and Optimus was nothing if not diligent. Earth was a whole new world he had to learn about in order to understand so he can make a new living strategy for himself if not for the others.

Optimus adapted. He had to. He was a civilian grounder living with all kinds of towering warframes half of his life, the other half being spent trying to get used to bots usually smaller than him. He was used to a ship full of mecha, to noise created by more than four bots and himself. His first few days on the Orion had been unnerving, but he had _adapted_. The hardest had been adapting to his crew's strange personalities and the fact that only Ratchet knew how to follow orders or show even a bit of respect for a commanding officer. Now he was on an organic planet, in a city built and inhabited by organics and their strange drones that did most of the jobs for them. If Optimus didn't know better, he'd say they had a pretty ... _Cybertronian_ design to them. The way they could transform parts of their body for different functions unnerved him. There were _plenty_ of robotic and cybernetic lifeforms out there in the vast universe, but it was a widely known fact only _Cybertronians_ possessed the ability to transform due to their T-Cogs, a part of their biology, _not_ a thing of technology. Even if someone got ahold of a T-Cog or design specifications for it, the code to initiate a transformation sequence is a thing hidden in the processor and it was instinctive. It's nothing grand. No one not of Cybertronian origin would even recognize the code sequence if they saw it! And yet these humans had.

Or rather, _one_ human had.

It all made Optimus deeply suspicious and distrusting towards one Isaac Sumdac, Sari's progenitor, her 'father', the equivalent of a sire if Optimus understood correctly. The man seemed innocent enough, but Optimus was not the Head Strategist just for his use of logic. He had that deep instinctive 'gut feeling', as the humans called it, that allowed him to counter logic even if it seemed _so obvious_. For sometimes logic wasn't enough. It just wasn't the answer. This feeling deep in his spark had saved countless battles and even more numerous lives. Optimus had learned to trust it a long time ago. It's what made him a good commander. He perceived the battlefield both by processor and spark. Isaac Sumdac is not to be trusted. He was hiding something. Optimus just knew.

However, he can't accuse the man without evidence. He was this planet's equivalent of Perceptor. He provided them with new technological innovations. Even if he _did_ have evidence, Optimus doubted the humans would punish him too severely, if at all. They needed him and Optimus was just an alien, a _machine_ to them. As far as they were concerned, he had no rights. Sure, they didn't _treat_ him and his team like that, but the young Prime wasn't stupid. It was underlined in any sentence spoken regarding their freedom of movement and activities. Only a few solar cycles on this planet and Optimus could pretty much guess why Megatron had started his rebellion against Cybertron's ruling body. Earth wasn't too different, at least regarding their new otherworldly visitors. They just hid it better by calling them heroes. It fooled Bumblebee and Bulkhead, but Optimus knew better. He was older and not nearly as naive as them. Prowl and Ratchet didn't care either way.

The second thing grabbing his attention was the fact that they can't repair their ship, meaning they were truly and fully stuck on Earth. It wouldn't be too bad if they could at least _contact_ someone, but this sector was pretty much void of life save Earthlings and bacteria. If they wanted to get help, they'd need a stronger transmitter, something they could get off of Swindle _if only they could contact him_! Optimus wondered if there was a way for him to send a short, coded message through signals alone. It wasn't _im_possible, but it was unlikely anyone will receive the message. The signal can only reach about two galaxies away and this sector was _very_ remote. Nearest ally, be they true or by default, Decepticon or Autobot, was several million light years away. Which, once again, meant he was stuck here with the humans and the very suspicious Professor Sumdac with a bunch of Autobots he was responsible for and had to look after.

Which brought him to the final thing demanding his attention: his unruly crew. He didn't know _what_ to do with them. One would think the AllSpark to be the main source of his concerns, but _no_. It _had_ to be a bunch of _Autobots_. The new Lord of the Decepticons had to sparklingsit _Autobots_. Optimus was sure Primus was having a great big laugh right now, down in the core of Cybertron. This went against everything that the Head Strategist of the Decepticons should stand for or represent. Anyone besides Ratchet showed him _no_ respect - they even forgot how he 'defeated' Megatron and saved all of their lives, _frag_ them - whatsoever and his concerns were ignored. Optimus opted not to dwell too much on it but he'd rather have a grueling helmache because of them than because he remembered what happened before he fell into stasis and fall into a state of depression and despair. He still couldn't believe Megatron was _gone_! How could _Megatron_ ever be _gone_!? It was like something was suddenly fundamentally wrong with the universe and Optimus couldn't fix it because he was the _cause_ of it and not even indirectly.

Had he not been so stubborn to find out how he got to Archa 7 in that escape pod, he never would have been captured and forced to stay on Cybertron, he never would have had to join the Academy or met Elita One and Sentinel or got assigned to that patrol that had ended in Elita's death on Archa 7. He never would have then been expelled from the Academy and practically banished from both Cybertron and any location Decepticons might be with a space bridge repair crew under his watch. And if he hadn't ended up with them, he'd never have found the AllSpark and had to flee from the one person he had wanted to see the most in over one thousand stellar cycles, just for when they _finally_ get a reunion to be ripped apart once more, this time _permanently_ as Megatron gave up his own life in order not to drag Optimus to death with him. He'd never be this miserable if only he'd given up on that stupid-

"-and of course, our otherworldly heroes, the Autobots!" He snapped back to the present when an applause broke out, finding himself before a gathered crowd with his 'fellow' Autobots as Sumdac introduced some invention of his or the other. Supposedly a super fast train or something. Nothing particularly interesting if you ask Optimus. He'd seen far better developed and advanced organics than the humans are and none of them gave him the bad vibe the Professor did. He still shook 'hands' - more like one of his digits to two of Sumdac's hands but humans were practically _tiny_ compared to Cybertronians - with Sumdac and then the mayor before stepping back, not embracing the cheers that the other bots were, save for Prowl who was sick and tired of all that attention since it interfered with his organic-watching. He wasn't a hero. He was a general, a commander, an Admiral, if you will. The only time he accepted applause for something he did was when he managed to win the Decepticons a major victory with minimal casualties. Only then did he feel he deserved it.

War commanders don't deserve an applause caused by awe. War commander deserve an applause caused by _respect_.

"And now, please enjoy the areal acrobatics of the Crimson Angels!" There was more cheering as five jets flew into view, starting their acrobatics, amazing everyone with the skills of the pilots. Optimus wasn't too impressed, though it was more because he was raised by the greatest seeker in the Deceoticon's Armada than anything else. Starscream loved to show off. He had a right to be cocky where his flying abilities were concerned.

"It's nice to see something flying other than a Decepticon," Bumblebee commented and while everyone else agreed, Optimus didn't. There was nothing as graceful as a seeker in flight and no one will ever be able to change his mind. Still, he watched the show out of boredom and plain curiosity, trying to enjoy it but truly failing. Had his battle protocols not jumped into action, blaring red warnings flooding his HUD, he would have drifted back off into his own processor again. As it was, he saw the exact moment when the five planes were joined by a sixth, this one had an orange cockpit and a certain flair to the simplest of its movements that had Optimus' attention at once.

"That's odd. I thought I paid for _five_ planes." Optimus overheard Sumdac say and was in action before he could even think, shoving the four Autobots off of the stage and lunging in front of the humans just as the jet opened fire. Had it not been for his ax, Optimus knew for sure that the building behind him would have crumbled and endangered several lives, including his own. He couldn't let that happen, not when the Decepticons were left to _him_ to lead. They'd already lost their leader, they can't lose their greatest general as well.

The humans were already panicking, so you can imagine the uproar when the jet suddenly all but hovered in midair like no human made aircraft save helicopters and a couple of highly classified military jets could, before it transformed and Optimus' spark flared with hope and despair once more in what he perceived as days apart as he recognized the very seeker he had been thinking about. However, Starscream had changed. He seemed so ... unhinged, compared to the relatively levelheaded mech Optimus grew up around. His preening and boasting was astronomical and he never used to have a problem with organics. And then he said the one sentence that made Optimus _snap_. It's been a long millennium. He may have 'saintly amounts of patience', but even _his_ patience eventually ran out. He has his limits.

"Fear me, organics, for now that Megatron has fallen, I, the great and glorious Starscream, rule the Decepticons!"

And Starscream had just crossed them by a light year.

"Uh, Bossbot? What are you doing?" Bumblebee asked uncertainly when he noticed Optimus powering up his ax and making decisive, confident, bordering on threatening steps towards Starscream with the obvious intent to start a fight in his optics.

"I'm going to pull his motherboard out through his aft is what I'm doing," replied the Prime, his back turned to the incredulous looks the others were exchanging behind his back before turning back to watch their - in their opinions, obviously insane - leader as Optimus took a deep invent and _honked_ as loudly as he could, getting Starscream's attention. "Hey, Screamer! Either talk like a civilized creature or _scram_! I'm not in the mood for this slag!"

"You _dare_ interrupt my _magnificent_ self?" The Decepticon Second in Command - was it just him, or did Starscream's title seem to be in title only? For all that he ranked 'higher' than Strika and, supposedly, Optimus himself, he had no power over them whatsoever, despite them being only generals (though Optimus' situation was quite a bit different, as he technically wasn't really even a Decepticon, lacking their red optics and faction symbol, something we've already established irked him to no end; he was _still_ the Head Strategist and commander of the Peaceful Tyranny and its crew) and virtual nobodies if you took them out of the army as opposed to Starscream's Airlord of Vos title and the political power it brings him - growled down at the 'Autobot' challenging him, red optics narrowed in fury. Optimus wasn't sure, but he swore he saw something of a crazed glint in the seeker's gaze and narrowed his own optics in thought and concern. All of this was too unsettling for his tastes. "Then you shall face my _wrath_!"

And with that, Starscream started firing his Null Rays all over the place, mostly aiming for Optimus and missing. If Starscream would have recognized him, it never would have come to this sort of clash, and not only because they were supposed to be on the same side. No, it would be because he'd know better than to attack Optimus with his signature attack since he had helped train the younger mech in combat against long range weapons when he had been younger. The Decepticond would always make sure that Optimus stays out of the crossfire of their battles - the closest to which he had gotten when he was three hundred stellar cycles old and the Autobots actually managed to cause some damage to the Nemesis in that attack that had lead to Optimus' training as a strategist in the first place - but they knew that won't _always_ be a possibility. When - never _if_ \- they are to land on Cybertron for the final assault, it was very unlikely Optimus wouldn't find himself in a situation where he had to fight for his life. So they trained him until his struts gave out under him and then trained him some more. Primarily, just to survive should he ever end up in a battle. But Optimus had proven to be a talent and that training had exceeded all previous expectations. Optimus may not be as large or strong or durable as a warframe, but he sure as hell fought as one. Starscream, where he in his right mind enough to recognize the sparkling he - and every other Decepticon - raised and adored, would have known this and not wasted precious energon.

As it was, he kept shooting at and missing - sometimes only just barely - Optimus, growing more and more frustrated. "Stay still, Autobot scum, and fight like a Decepticon! So I can tear out your sparkchamber and end your misery!"

"Ha! Bossbot faced down _Megatron_ and _won_!" Bumblebee boasted, causing Optimus to violently flinch and stumble in a dodge, Starscream's Null Ray blast connecting with his left side, the plating there giving a stressed groan and causing the circuitry to short out, making Optimus' dodging quite a bit slower than he would have preferred. He grit his dentae and turned towards Bumblebee with his best 'Tarn and Overlord fawn over my every order, resist at your own risk, soldier' glare that had frightened quite a few mecha over the stellar cycles, when Starscream, once again, completely threw him off balance.

"_Megatron_!? You think _you_ slagged Megatron? _I_ slagged Megatron! _I_ planted the device that overcharged his circuits! His fate was sealed even before he made it to your ship! It was _me_!"

"That's a lie! Isn't it?" Bulkhead exclaimed and then asked pointlessly, watching with worry how Optimus seemed to darken by the second. His teammates probably thought that he was disappointed that he hadn't done the 'Autobot heroic deed/duty' of offlining their worst enemy.

"You Autobots _honestly_ thought that _you_ could defeat _Megatron_?! Don't make me _laugh_!" He even made as if to cackle mockingly at them when his thrusters were suddenly doused with fire extinguisher foam, making him crash into a nearby building. When he climbed out of the sizable hole, he glared at the red and blue mech which was glaring at him in a way that was very reminiscent of the legendary and infamous 'Let the DJD loose' glare that Optimus had used maybe only twice in his entire life, and one time it had been against Magnus during his first day on Cybertron. "You _dare_-"

"You killed Megatron? Is that what you're saying?" Optimus battlemask slid into place and his optics blazed white in rage.

"Yes," Starscream replied smugly, but grew suspicious of the Autobot's motives and the reaction he was having to the news. Still, he smirked at the Prime with something like glee, though Optimus knew better. Starscream wasn't the standard 'I love to fight because I've been made for it' kind of mech, despite being a warframe. He was ... kind of cowardly, all things considered. Optimus didn't buy into it one bit when he seemed to delight in saying: "Are you challenging me, _Autobot_?"

Optimus was moving before Starscream's processor could catch up to it, firing his grappler and wrapping it around Starscream's legs, making him momentarily lose balance in the air and providing the younger mech with enough time to tug and slam Starscream into the building opposite the one he had recently climbed out of. However, Starscream was now in battle mode, his battle protocols finally gaining the attention of his processor and he flew up higher, taking the red and blue bot with him. Optimus did his best to meet every surface Starscream tried to smash him against pedes first so he can absorb most of the impact instead of letting his chassis take damage for it. It wasn't possible and Optimus winced at every new bump and dent forming on his plating, glaring up at the seeker.

"I'll be taking that as a yes," the smug jet sneered before powering up his thrusters even more and going _way_ higher, taking Optimus well above the tall buildings of Detroit. The Head Strategist had been hoping for that, as it meant Starscream had nothing to smash him against. Instead, it gave Optimus the opportunity he needed and he started climbing his own grappler's rope, pulling it back into his forearm. By the time Starscream looked back to see if his 'passenger' has been shaken off, Optimus had already climbed up to his shoulders and wedged his ax relatively hollowly into his right wing, making Starscream once again lose control and start spiraling down towards the ground with yelps of pain. Seeker wings _are_ rather sensitive. It was why Optimus had went for them. They were the weak spots of _every_ seeker. It was the best strategy, though Optimus regretted doing it, both because he cared for Starscream and because he was starting to doubt the results. This was pretty much a nosedive towards the ground and Optimus didn't have tough enough plating to come out of it all unscathed.

Still, it will be worth it if he could shock Starscream back into his usual self. At least the _next_ Decepticon leader will stay _sane_ as opposed to whatever state he was now in. Starscream at least had to have means of escaping the planet if he got here in the first place. Chances of Optimus making it back to the Decepticons were so minimal they were practically nonexistent. It was better to get Starscream back into shape and just join Megatron in the AllSpark. He hoped he and the rest will forgive him for giving up but he was _tired_. It's been such a long time since he's had a reason to smile and he wasn't sure if he'd ever have one again now that Megatron was gone and because of _him_. Starscream might have planted the bomb, but Megatron had let go so Optimuw could survive. He didn't want to live with that guilt. And while he _did_ want to offline Starscream for causing parts of the mess he found himself in, Optimus found he couldn't stay permanently mad at the seeker. He was one of his regular caretakers and mentors throughout his life. He wished just to find out _why_ Starscream had turned traitor but there just wasn't any time.

Using his ax and stepping onto Starscream's aft so he can get closer to the taller mech's audials, Optimus snapped over the howling wind as they fell. "Snap out of it, Starscream! Megatron may be gone but _I_ am _still_ the Head Strategist of the Decepticons and the Commander of the Peaceful Tyranny and its Decepticon Justice Division! Cease your hostilities at once or I won't erase your designation from the List!"

The seeker turned his helm incredulously and red optics stared into Autobot blue in sheer disbelief. Something must have clicked that Optimus was indeed _Optimus_ because Starscream gaped. "Optimus!? What in the name of the AllSpark are you doing here!?"

But before the Prime could respond, Starscream's inattention and sudden lack of trying to navigate them through the air due to his surprise resulted in them crashed through a skyscraper - somehow not taking the building down with them, through whatever luck or miracle - and then through several more buildings, usually just the roof or the top two floors as they continued falling to the ground. The seeker, now _painfully_ aware of who he was carrying, tried to maneuver them around so he would take the brunt of the damage for Optimus, but that just veered them through another taller building and, to both of their horror, it started falling down after them. Starscream, aware of dangers from _both_ the front and the back, managed to tug Optimus into his arms and tilt them sideways as they crashed into the ground, hoping to somewhat protect him from the falling building.

The last thing Optimus felt before everything went absolutely black was an immense weight crushing him like he was in a trash compactor.

Then he felt no more.


	14. Chapter 14

**Head Strategist**

**Summary: A sparkling discarded by its own people becomes one of the most powerful mechs in the universe, much to the shock of those who had thrown him away. Primus watches out for his children, no matter where they end up. And this discarded sparlking has the power to bring peace to a war that has been raging for eons. He only needs to survive.**

_Light ..._

_There was light all around him, nearly blinding when he first onlined his optics. Optimus had never seen so much light before ... Well, if the incident at the Well of AllSparks didn't count, that is. He'd seen plenty of blinding light back then, over a millennium ago. In fact, this light kind of reminded him of that little light show, which could only mean ..._

'Am I dead?'_ He wondered to himself, looking around. As expected, there was nothing there for him to see, just more light of nothingness. It was at least very soothing, the warmth seeping deep into his struts and seemingly healing the injuries he'd gotten through his whole life, _especially_-_

_He looked down as it occurred to him what had no doubt caused him to end up one with the AllSpark in the first place, falling from quite a height through several buildings and then having a skyscraper fall on him. No wonder he was in the Well. A grown Decepticon would come out rather beat up from that, let alone a civilian frame, which he had no matter how much he trained and how well he fought. He should have been a pretty much crumbled mess, maybe with twisted or missing limbs, cracked chestplates or pierced sparkchamber. He should look like a twisted corpse of his old self, but when he looked down, he found himself to be just as he had been before his duel with Megazarak, half of his lifetime ago. In fact, he seemed to be better and only getting more so the longer he stayed bathing in this light. Then again, this _was_ the AllSpark, wasn't it? He was _supposed_ to be happy and comfortable in here. This was where sparks were born and where they came back to when their life cycle is over. This is where sparks rest until they want to return to the world of the living as a new mech or where they wait Till All Are One. No one suffers here. Here, there are no castes or classes or ranks or statuses or factions. Here, in the embrace of Primus, they were all finally equal. Here, they will all be One._

_Here, some of his dearest might be waiting for him._

_With that thought, Optimus started walking around through this light, finding it fascinating how the further he went, it seemed to turn into a mist of some sort. It filled his olfactory sensors and vents with the smell of pure, unprocessed energon, probably the blue one that was so rare it cost more than an ordinary mech could make in a lifetime. Megatron used to tell him his optics matched its color and he would know, having been a miner at one point and that meant he was bound to occasionally run into it. Optimus had taken both pride and comfort in that fact. He wondered if his optics had also returned to their original color. He would have loved that. He hated his Autobot blue optics. The color of optics indicated what your coding was like. Autobots had a certain shade of blue, Decepticons had red, Minicons had yellow and Quintessons - though they weren't Cybertronian, _some_ of their coding _was_ of Cybertronian origin, especially if you believe in the legends of the Thirteen Primes that Cyclonus used to teach Optimus when he was younger - had green optics. Optimus' own shade of blue was unique. In all seriousness, Optimus was sure only _Alpha Trion_ has the same shade as him, which brought to question the matter of Optimus' origins. Maybe he'll find out now that he's in the Well. There's bound to be _someone_ who knows. Though, right now, he'd be the happiest if he could just find someone who knew him while he was alive so he can come to terms with his own offlining in peace._

_Just as he thought that, shapes started appearing in the distance, just black dots that obscured the infinite light. Seeing them, the former Decepticon Head Strategist/Autobot Prime started running, eager to greet all of his old friends and hoping not to see any that had been alive the last time he was among Decepticons. For a while, it seemed like he wasn't making any progress, but then bipedal shapes became obvious and soon colors and even some details. They were still quite a distance away, but their voices could be heard. Optimus wasn't sure how since he was an extinguished spark in the Well of AllSparks, but his spark was racing in his chassis as one figure stood out from the rest, standing _much_ closer to where Optimus was than the others. The spikes and the gray plating gave the mech away and coolant dripped down Optimus' cheek plates as he made to leap into the Decepticon Lord's arms, only to hit a wall. He pounded and pushed against it, but it only rippled like the surface of water, not giving way, though allowing him to see through to the other side of the wall._

_Red optics seemed to be drinking in the sight of him as Megatron leaned against _another_ barrier, keeping him from the rest of the Well of AllSparks and the sparks resting there. He, too, looked like _way_ before Optimus fought Megazarak, all new and highly polished. This must have been how he looked when he was onlined for the last battles against the Quintessons, way before the functionist regime stuck him down in the darkness of the energon mines. He was truly a sight to behold, but Optimus missed the subtle scars he had learned over the stellar cycles and all the stories behind them. The warframes were always proud of the damage they took in battle. Their collection of scars was a thing to brag about, stories to be told and retold again and again. Megatron always had the best stories._

_"Optimus," the deceased Decepticon greeted with a nod, a small smirk playing at his lip plates. "So, your true self finally shines through? I still don't understand why Magnus tried to change that. Your finish is a thing of beauty."_

_"It didn't fit the Autobot view of a perfect military officer, I'm afraid. Too wild or something. Too free." They both glared off to the side at that, disgusted at the mere notion of it. Megatron was keeping a mostly calm facade but he was raging inside. He had never wanted Optimus to feel the oppression he himself had went through. The red and blue bot knew this and felt extra guilty for getting caught and causing all of this. "I'm sorry."_

_"What for?" The gray mech asked with an arched optic ridge. "My death? I chose it myself. I would rather die and give you a chance to survive than drag you down with me. You're the Decepticon's key to victory. You're our Head Strategist and their Lord now."_

_"I know and that's not exactly what I was apologizing for."_

_"What then?"_

_"For running away," Optimus mumbled, feeling like he was a sparkling again, refraining from twiddling his digits or looking away. He had gotten over that before he hit triple digits. He wasn't going to regress now, not in his very first real conversation with Megatron since he left for Cybertron. Not in their first proper talk in a thousand stellar cycles! "For not listening to you. For getting caught. For being out of reach and probably making you think I was dead ... " He did look away this time in utter shame. "For dying and failing the Decepticons."_

_"Easy, now," Megatron said with a snort, pushing away from the rippling barrier and coming to stand in front of the smaller mech. "You're not dead yet, little one."_

_"Huh?" _'Real smooth, Optimus. Real smooth.' _"But this is the Well of AllSparks! How else would I be like this?" He indicated himself to make a point. Even his original alt mode was back, not the one the Autobots forced on him or even the one he had scanned from Earth, though that one had been somehow a lot more similar to his original one than the alt mode he got from the Autobots._

_"Well, you certainly can't make it through that barrier any more than I can through mine. For some reason, we're both stuck here, though I'm neither here nor there," the hulking mech shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal. "I think I'll be staying for a while, but you won't."_

_"How can you be so sure?" Prime asked, staring at the Emperor of Destruction in suspicion now._

_"Because you're already fading away." Resetting his optics in confusion, Optimus looked down at his chassis when Megatron pointedly looked at it and gaped when he found that Megatron was, indeed, right. It was like he was slowly but surely being blown away into sparkles, starting with his now transparent limbs and the outer edges of his chest plates. His entire outline was fading away and there was nothing he could do to stop it. "It would seem it is not your time yet, Optimus. You're going back. The Decepticons still have a Lord to return to them."_

_"But I don't want to go back!" His cry surprised them both, especially Megatron, who frowned in confusion. Optimus hugged himself, the warmth of the Well suddenly not reaching him at all. He felt numb. Perhaps he truly _was_ returning to the world of the living. "I'm tired, Megatron. Everything I do seems to somehow set me on a path I'd rather never walk on. I can't seem to do anything right these stellar cycles. I accidentally killed you, Starscream seems to have turned traitor in my absence and tried to destroy you and I can't seem to escape the Autobots. Even here, on Earth, millions of light years away from Cybertron or any other civilization that I know, I can't escape them ... I don't know what to do."_

_"What happened to the fearless sparkling who had looked at the deadliest mechs in the universe and found _something_ worth saving in them? Where is the mechling who had dared correct Strika's strategy in the midst of battle and became the youngest general in the history of our people? What has changed the mech who has stood up to Megazarak, a mechanism bigger than me or Strika, a warrior ten times your age and experience, without fear or hesitation?" Megatron placed one big, black, clawed servo on the invisible wall separating them, optics warm and gentle. "What happened to _my_ Head Strategist, _my_ Lord of Destruction, _my_ Optimus? I know we've not seen each other in ages, but I doubt you could change _that_ much."_

_"I lost a friend," Optimus admitted even as he placed his smaller, blue, blunt-fingered servo against the barrier where Megatron's was and pretended that there was nothing in between them. "It was my fault. I should have been a better commander-"_

_"Even the best of generals sometimes lose a battle," the warframe cut in, shaking his helm. "You're a gifted strategist, Optimus, but not even _you_ can win them all. Though, it might be more because you're used to commanding warframes who don't disobey orders and civilians aren't exactly as battle smart, if you know what I mean."_

_Oh, Optimus knew. Elita One and Sentinel were only the beginning. They were the _tame_ ones. They had had some proper military training, or at least what passed as _proper_ for civilianframes where war was concerned, anyway. His current team, though, didn't know a single thing about battlefield conduct and courtesy, save Ratchet and he was only a field medic. The last time Optimus commanded a field medic was one thousand three hundred fifty seven stellar cycles ago and it had been Hook as a part of Devastator so he was a given. Medics were usually assigned a quadrant and given statistics, but they were usually left to fill out their duty how they saw fit. Optimus had a pretty good idea how the medics that he knew would react to someone telling them how to do their job. He wasn't sure who'd be scarier, Hook or Knock Out. Scalpel would just take apart anyone who dared in their sleep. The rest of his team were misfits and washouts. Even if Ratchet was millions of stellar cycles older than him, Optimus was still the most experienced and the highest ranking mech in their group, whether it be from Autobot or Decepticon point of view, especially the latter one. Especially as of late._

_"Yeah, I know. But I still think I could have saved her. I was the more experienced one, I was the senior cadet, the acting commanding officer. I knew what was on Archa 7-"_

_"You actually _went_ to _Archa 7_!?"_

_"I already told you that!"_

_"You _mentioned_ it moments before I fell out of your airlock!"_

_"There wasn't exactly any _time_ to chat about it! You were too busy trying to kill me!" The exasperated blue and red truck snapped and the two fell silent, just staring at each other._

_"I apologize for that. I just ... I couldn't recognize you," Megatron said, for the first time at a loss of words in his life. Optimus just stared at him, not sure how to react. "You didn't look like yourself at all. In our calls, all we could see of you was your face or just your helm. I know you told us about what the Autobots did to you but I guess it just didn't sink in until I saw it with my own two optics. And with that Autobot badge changing your energy signature and the coding changing your optics color ... Even the alt mode was different, impractical. You truly looked like an Autobot. You didn't look like my Head Strategist. My Optimus was wild and beautiful and unique and strong. You _looked_ familiar, but I couldn't recognize you as _my_ Optimus."_

_The younger mech swore his face was going to melt from how hot it felt. Hearing how his fear of not being recognized by mecha he had been raised by had had him feeling like he had been thrown into liquid nitrogen, but then Megatron had continued talking and Optimus was suddenly as hot as lava. To hear that the mech who he'd long ago given his spark to, even if the other didn't know it or want it, say such things, call him beautiful and strong, had said spark soaring in joy. Now he could die happy. _'Oh, wait. I'm dead already,'_ he remembered, looking down at his slowly disappearing hands. _'Though it looks like I won't be soon enough.'

_"It's almost time," Megatron noted, having seen the direction Optimus' gaze had been focused in. "You seem to have much more to do before you can rest."_

_"What about you?" The Head Strategist/Prime reluctantly asked, worried blue optics focusing on the warlord once again. "I don't want to leave you here!"_

_"What? At the doorstep of peace and serenity? My, my, I never knew you were so selfish, Optimus! For shame," Megatron teased and watched in delight as Optimus started to sputter. The younger mech just glared at the chuckling warlord, highly offended and incredibly embarrassed. He honestly didn't know whether he should defend himself or not, but his companion saved him from his dilemma, still highly amused. "Relax, Optimus. I jest. I myself am not ready for rest quite yet. I _refuse_ to lay down and die before Decepticons walk Cybertron once more."_

_"But you were so damaged when you fell out of the airlock ... And I couldn't pick up your signal at all. And I've toured around Detroit. Do you know what happened to you?"_

_"I must admit that I don't, but I've survived worse," Megatron waved it off, ignoring how incredulous Optimus must have looked at that declaration. He felt like he had pulled off a pretty good Strika expression that she usually used when Megatron was giving some speech as an excuse for an injury or any time the mech or Lugnut went on to do single heroics against the enemy line. The warlord must have noticed the similarity in looks and scowled at Strika's protégé. "Don't give me that look. You're seventeen million stellar cycles too early to give me that look."_

_Optimus just shrugged. "Strika _is_ my mentor and _she_ allows me to use The Look."_

_"She's only doing that to get in your good graces and take my place as your favorite. Well, that's not happening. Not on _my_ watch." Aaand Optimus' spark was doing acrobatics again that surely _can't _be healthy for it. _'Megatron cares about being my favorite?'_ Just what the pit had changed since Optimus left the Decepticons!? Or had this subtle competition always been there but had just been a lot more low key than it was now? Optimus rather hated the thought that he had been _so_ oblivious at one thousand and two hundred stellar cycles of age. Either way, competition or not, Megatron had never been quite _this_ possessive of Optimus before. The 'my' is now quite pointedly pronounced so no one would miss it and it caused Optimus' spark to skip a couple of harmonics each time the gray warframe punctioned it. _'Well, looks like _my_ crush only got bigger. Maybe I should stop deluding myself and call it as it is.'

_Just then, he felt an extremely hard tug and lurched backwards with it, his hand leaving the place it was 'touching' Megatron's, much to his displeasure. He tried to fight it, but it was too strong and he was wrenched away from Megatron before they could finish their discussion or before he could ask whether Megatron had talked to a femme by the name of Elita One. He was pulled back through the mist he had traversed through until he was in the blinding light again, alone once more._

_Only this time, his chest plates and sparkchamber were wide open, displaying his spark for all to see that its light _perfectly_ matched the AllSpark's. "What the pit?" He asked more to himself and nearly jumped out of his plating - though he wasn't sure this form actually _had_ any plating but whatever - when a rumbling, echoing, _familiar_ voice surrounded him._

~Return to me soon, little one. You have been gravely missed. You have spent not nearly enough time with me as you have been away.~

_"Who are you? Why do you insist on me coming back? Coming back _where_?!"_

~You already know.~

_Optimus gave a frustrated growl. "No, I _don't_. If you haven't noticed by now, I don't know _anything_ regarding myself so a clue or three would _help_! Or how about a straight answer for once in my life cycle!?"_

~If you do not know, then all will soon be revealed. Your brother and I are waiting. Please do not take to long.~

_The voice was already fading and his chest plates were closing just as eleven pairs of optics identical to his in color appeared as if blinking on, a giant pair right behind them with reaching hands and then Optimus was _slammed back into his own body, a gust of wind leaving his vents as his systems sputtered back online, making the gathered mecha around him jump away. The Autobots were all gawking at him, Sari was staring in disbelief and a trail of _very_ familiar light was fading back away towards where the AllSpark was still hidden in the Orion on the bottom of Lake Eiri. Starscream, on the other hand, was holding a giant bolder that must have been crushing him and looked ready to collapse under it with relief.

"Oh, thank merciful Primus and the life-giving AllSpark! If you'd died, Strika would _kill_ me!"

"I rather doubt Strika would be your greatest worry," Optimus grumbled and pushed himself up, careful to catch Sari so she didn't fall from his chest as she pulled out the AllSpark Key and his chest plates closed as she landed in his hand. She was staring at him with wonder and Optimus couldn't help but frown a little. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

"Looking _good_, Bossbot!" Bumblebee even whistled, giving him a big bright grin. Starscream's helm snapped in his direction so fast that Optimus swore he heard a cable snap. For the seeker's good, he _hoped_ not.

"Wow," Bulkhead breathed, joining in on the commentary. "I've never seen _that_ on the energon farms."

"How old _are_ you, kid? Those designs haven't been in use for _millennia_ before _I_ was onlined!" The grumpy medic asked incredulously, rubbing his optic lenses as if to clean them, resetting them a few times when the image didn't change.

"... Impressive," was Prowl's only comment, the final one that had Optimus looking down at himself only to see ... _Himself_. His _real_ self, the form with which he was onlined, the form in which he'd grown up in. His original form, red and blue flames embracing, a bit boxy frame and, most importantly, _no faction symbol on his shoulder_!

"Well, it's _about_ time for something to go right for me."


	15. Chapter 15

**Head Strategist**

**Summary: A sparkling discarded by its own people becomes one of the most powerful mechs in the universe, much to the shock of those who had thrown him away. Primus watches out for his children, no matter where they end up. And this discarded sparlking has the power to bring peace to a war that has been raging for eons. He only needs to survive.**

Seeing a seeker bunking with Autobots was as strange as seeing Overlord give Tarn a metaloflower from Criocorbius 3 for the human celebration known as Valentine's Day, in other words completely unbelievable unless seen with your own optics and Ratchet was seeing it right the frag now. He had to check his systems, like, three times a day to make sure he wasn't just glitching whenever he saw Starscream perched atop some of the machinery in one of the bigger rooms of the old factory like some gargoyle, red optics following everyone's every move. The old medic had no doubt that the seeker's battle protocols were constantly online due to the proximity of Autobots, his sworn enemies, and knew that can't be comfortable. His own were active any time the seeker was within sight and he was a civilianframe. Warframes had much more 'sensitive' battle protocols, being made for war. He must be edgy as Pit.

And yet he stayed, despite his obvious discomfort around the ever talking Bumblebee, the somewhat shy Bulkhead, he seemed to be okay with the silent and brooding Prowl as long as the ninja wasn't studying him like he did those organic flying creatures and he glared death at Ratchet from time to time because they often criticized each other's grumbling. He avoided Sari like a plague because she asked even more questions than Bumblebee did and he never interacted with the humans they see every time he follows the Autobots out of their 'base' to help their hosts, though he _did_ enjoy the attention he got from them, typical of seekers, really.

The only one he didn't seem to mind was Optimus Prime, whom he seemed to be very protective of, despite trying to kill him just a couple of weeks ago. The two, when asked, just said they had history from Optimus' youth, but they never specified _what_ kind of history. Asking about Optimus' age at least produced the answer and Ratchet was surprised he was both that young and that old. Two thousand stellar cycles was _really_ young by normal Cybertronian standards, but it was already _old_ by Autobot standards, especially for mecha from the Academy/Elite Guard. Bumblebee and Bulkhead were only a couple hundred stellar cycles old and awed at Optimus' age. Prowl was about that same age, but that is to be expected, since he was a cyberninja. They had to be older in order to have been taught by Master Yoketron.

Optimus, in short, made no sense. The young mech had never seemed quite ... normal to Ratchet. He acted way older than he actually was, he had firearms without it being standard, licensed and registered Elite Guard guns, he apparently spends his free time viewing and criticizing old history texts/films and he now seems to be all chummy with a Decepticon officer, the fragging _Second in Command_! And even the General of Destruction's designation was thrown around. And the most interesting part was how the AllSpark fixed and remade him. Even when he was only onlined, Ratchet had never seen such extravagant decorations on a mech's plating. Not even in _their_ old history videos. Such patterns were practically ancient and considered _way_ out of style by now, especially in officers. No plating stylist knows how to create such decorations anymore. And yet when they asked Optimus about it, the kid said he was _onlined_ like that. Who the frag can be _onlined_ with red and blue flames embracing over their limbs!? Worst of all, Starscream agreed. He said he'd never had attacked had Optimus looked like that from the start, saying this was the only way he'd ever looked. Apparently, he wasn't suicidal.

Just _who_ was Optimus Prime? He definitely was more than meets the eye. The way he carried himself was almost Decepticon-like in its sure, steady strides, erect back and pulled back shoulders while looking so _casual_ in such a military disposition, as though he'd been _onlined_ with it, the way only warframes were. He seemed to be constantly on alert and his optics casually flit over every room he entered, as if searching for threats, assessing escape routes or easily defensible places. He acted several times his age and was knowledgeable in all sorts of subjects. One of the surprising things was that he apparently knew some Vosian and the seeker was taking great delight in this apparently new knowledge, making sure to broaden it each day. And Optimus was a quick study. He seemed to take in information at a slightly scary fast pace. It was impressive even for their species, what with all of them having the most advanced CPUs with massive learning and storing capacities. They were a long lived species. They needed it. Still, Optimus' processing power was freaky.

And don't even get Ratchet _started_ on his battle prowess. _That_ was a warbuild in a civilian chassis! Strategy, fighting ability, adaptation to the field, _battle protocols_ ... Civilianframes don't get battle protocols until they finish bootcamp training and are sent out onto the battlefield! Optimus was so used to his battle protocols that there was _no way_ he had them only since Ultra Magnus assigned him to the space bridge repair crew on the Orion. And let's not even talk about how he had apparently immediately recognized an Omega Sentinel! How the frag did the Elite Guard let this mech go!? He'd be an amazing asset against the Decepticons! In the weeks following the AllSpark's revival of him, in the crazy little adventures they've had since then, Optimus had shown off _incredible_ skills. If Ratchet didn't know any better, he'd say the kid actually had a warframe processor. But warframe processors can't store the amount of data Optimus seems to have on hand in his processor's data banks. The mech was obviously a very weird design, one Ratchet as a medic had never seen before and itched to study closely.

He didn't know _what_ to think of the kid, but one thing was for damn sure. _No one_ deserved to be caught and tortured by Lockdown! The only problem? Their arguably best fighter had been knocked out by the bounty hunter with the use of a _very_ familiar EMP Generator and the three youngsters had rushed into the rescue, ending up easily defeated by a pissed off Lockdown. Starscream just stood back and watched without any real interest as the bounty hunter struggled a bit with Prowl before defeating the younger cyberninja. Ratchet wasn't sure why he was even there if he wasn't going to help in the rescue, but then Optimus came out of the ship, looking smug and satisfied as Pit ... Or at least he did until he saw Lockdown under a pile of metal that Ratchet had dropped on him with his electromagnets. He paused, looked at the sprawled form of Prowl, the near crushed Lockdown, the nonchalant Starscream enjoying the show and Ratchet clutching his long lost personal mod and just rubbed at his nasal bridge.

"I leave you guys alone for _five minutes_ and _this_ is what you get up to?! Lockdown, I _told_ you not to engage them! Starscream, _what_ is _wrong_ with you?! Why didn't you stop them!?"

"I didn't feel like it," the seeker replied with a shrug, though his wings were erect and his posture was tense. From what Ratchet knew of seeker body language, that was what a scolded sparkling looks like. "So, how did it go? How likely is it that this insignificant buffoon is going to die and how soon?"

"Hey, what's with all the hate, Screamer!? Your boys have always had good business with me!" The green bounty hunter protested, digging his hook into the garbage thrown onto him, trying to get out. He almost managed it before he must have gotten warnings about over-stressing his pistons, because he stopped and glared at the Decepticon. Said SIC just snickered at him, but stopped when Optimus glared at him. Both Ratchet and Prowl exchanged a look at that. There was _definitely_ more to Optimus than he's let show so far. The question is _what_.

"You always try to rip us off!"

"Only a _fool_ would try to rip off Megatron, General Strika or your Head Strategist! Not even _Swindle_ is that crazy and I actually have some self perseverance protocols!"

"To answer your question, Starscream," Optimus began, cutting off the argument before it could get heated and most probably lead to blows being exchanged. That's how things were typically dealt with between warframes. It only peaked Ratchet's interest more when the flier and the warframe grounder both stopped as though they forcibly cut the electricity heading to their voice box just so they couldn't speak and interrupt the red and blue flamed bot. "It went well. We'll be picked up by one of Victory's accompanying fleet ships. I've managed to strike a bargain with Strika about safe passage until we can drop off-"

"Hold it!" The medic felt the need to stop him right there, because this was becoming _ridiculous_. "You _bargained_ with the _Decepticons_!? Are you _glitched_, kid? Do I need to check your processor for a malfunction?" Which would also serve as an ideal excuse to see just what kind of processor lay under that always cool and calm helm. "Do you know what they'll do to us?! And don't you _dare_ say we'll hand over the AllSpark for our sparks! Even if we _were_ willing to do that, they'd just take the damn thing and kill us anyway!"

"Hey, medic! Show some respect to the He-" Starscream silenced whatever Lockdown was about to say by throwing some piece of junk on the bounty hunter, covering his head and muffling his curses as he damned all of Starscream's ancestors right down to the first fliers. The seeker just inspected his clawed digits innocently while Prowl studied him suspiciously as he regained his footing.

"One," Optimus saying had them all turning their attention back to the Prime. "_I_ didn't bargain with the Decepticons. Technically, _you_ did, since I'm safe from them but you guys aren't. I don't think you really have room to complain seeing as I just spared your lives by claiming you as mine."

"You _what_!?"

"_Two_," the tallest civilianframe present talked over any protests Ratchet may have had, making the old mech grit his dentae. "My processor is just fine, as is the rest of me, but thank you for the concern." Well, he wouldn't have taken the kid for the sarcastic kind, if he were to be placing bets. Even after all these stellar cycles of working with him, it would seem Optimus only had more surprises and secrets to reveal. "Three, it's the only way for you to get off this planet and have any chances of returning to Cybertron. And _four_, I don't really _care_ about what your opinion is regarding what is to happen to the AllSpark. I found it, you didn't even want to touch it, so I don't see how this is any concern of yours. And, with all due respect, Ratchet, you should be grateful that we're even still _alive_ and you should remember that Autobots aren't the _only_ ones whose sparks originate from the AllSpark. The Decepticons have as much right to it as you do."

"They'll use it to kill all the civilian frames! Or enslave them!" How couldn't Optimus understand this?! And how come he was always so fragging calm! It made arguing with him pointless and childish.

"Has an _actual_ Decepticon Officer ever told you as such to your face?" Ratchet couldn't help himself. He gaped, completely and utterly floored with Optimus' pointed question/suggestion, complete with an arched optic ridge, cocked hip strut and crossed servos over his chassis. He looked so completely different from the almost introverted bot that had been serving as his ship's commander and captain that Ratchet didn't know how to respond, to him or to his question. Optimus took his silence as a confirmation of his point or something and nodded. "Didn't think so."

"The Decepticons only want to go home and live in peace from you insufferable civilianframes," Starscream piped up, sneering at him and Ratchet immediately scowled. The seeker still beat him to the next word before hr could make a sound. "And don't even _try_ to take the 'moral high ground'," and Ratchet was surprised to see Starscream even making the gesture for the human 'air quotes' along with the roll of his optics and the disgusted twist of his derma or the threatening growl in his voice as he continued. "It's not as if _your_ kind had any different plans for _mine_, only disguised behind pretty words and false promises!"

"Perhaps this is not the best time to have this discussion," Prowl intervened before things could get even more heated. "Optimus, could you tell us what the plan is? When we can leave the planet? Still online, preferably."

The red and blue mech just shrugged, nonchalant in the face of the argument going on. "Lieutenants Lugnut and Blitzwing will be arriving with some newbie to pick us up in about a decacycle or so. They won't harass anyone as long as you don't harass them, and by you, I mean Bumblebee."

"Ugh, not _those_ two, by the love of Primus!" Starscream complained with a groan, but shut up when Optimus glared at him. "Right. Important transport. _Has_ to be those two. _Great_." He shook his helm before turning his attention back to the conversation at hand. "You said they'd be here in a decacycle? What are we supposed to do until then!? This planet is already _painfully_ boring."

"You call fighting a prehistoric beastformer _boring_?!" Ratchet snapped at the vermilion seeker, fed up with all of this scrap. It's been anything _but_ boring ever since they woke up on this dirt ball of a planet. It was excitement, wanted or not, all around! From Starscream to humans and their petty crimes against each other and Ratchet knew, if he had the 'hair' that humans did, he'd be tearing it out until he was bald by now. He was an old bot. The only reason he _still_ served the military was in order to keep Omega Supreme safe lest the Autobots take him apart for spare parts.

"Prehistoric for _Autobots_, maybe, but the Decepticons still have a couple of Predacons. We just don't let them fight in battles that aren't meant fir total decimation of the Autobots side so you'd never know about our secret weapon."

"You literally just told us," the younger cyberninja pointed out and both Optimus and Starscream, as well as Lockdown, rolled their optics heavenwards, exasperated.

"The day that Autobot High Command believes you there are Predacons prowling the universe is the day I surrender myself to those fraggers willingly." Ratchet frowned at that, _still_ not sure about the animosity Optimus harbored against their superiors and regretting he had always opted not to question it. Someone so young shouldn't be filled with so much bitterness regarding their government, as usually someone ad young as him wasn't really informed about the truth about the Great War and all the preceded or followed after it. Then again, Optimus _was_ the exception to many norms Ratchet was used to in bots, especially youngsters like Optimus. He resolved to talk with the kid when he gets a chance. "Anyway, that aside, if you guys _really_ don't want the Decepticons to drop you off at the first neutral world, we can at least use their communicators to contact the Autobots for you so they know to come and pick you up. In the end, it's really _your_ choice as I sure as Pit won't try to convince or force you to come."

"They can even use _my_ communication consul," Lockdown suggested while Ratchet still studied the Prime, leering in Prowl's direction suggestively, the younger cyberninja seemingly not knowing how to react. "For a _price_."

All three civilianframes scowled at that, Prowl even going for his throwing stars to maybe finish Lockdown off while he was still down and Ratchet was eager to help him. He'd take any excuse. But Optimus beat them to it, unimpressed and disapproving. "Don't be crass, Lockdown, it's beneath you. And Prowl is _way_ out of your league, not to mention under _my_ protection, as they all are until we can get them to safety."

The green mech huffed but didn't say anything in disagreement while the two Autobots turned to look at the flamed mech incredulously. Ratchet had never been quite sure as to what to think of the mech before him, but he was now confused more than ever. A mech so young but so respected by not only _Decepticons_ but also by disloyal scum like Lockdown ... _How_ and _why_ had Ultra Magnus let this mech go? For whatever reason Optimus Prime got kicked out of the Autobot Academy, it only looked like a colossal loss to the medibot as he watched Optimus be gently pushed aside by Starscream when he went to free Lockdown, the seeker taking his place, probably because he, like everyone else, still feared Optimus might turn dead again despite how good he was functioning. Ratchet now had that fear for several reasons.

Optimus was not only their best fighter but he was now their ticket off of this planet. He was their insurance that the Decepticons won't come hunting them down for their partial servo in Megatron's deactivation or for having the AllSpark - although it seemed _that_ will be changing soon enough. And it was Optimus who had assured them a few basic rights here on Earth, discussing things with politicians like a pro.

What worried Ratchet about Optimus' reaction to Earth was how uneasy he was around humans. If not for his reluctance to let them near himself, Ratchet would recharge a lot better at night, for he, too, had noticed the drones' resemblance to their kind but had wanted to write it off as coincidence. Optimus didn't. And Optimus didn't trust them, didn't trust Isaac Sumdac for some strange reason. He never turned his backstruts to the guy, always keeping him in line of sight. Call Ratchet paranoid for trusting a paranoid mech, but he _did_ know about Optimus' battle protocols. If a mech _with_ them found a human disturbing then it was something to consider.

Besides, it's not as though they _hadn't_ seen just how bonkers some humans can be. Prometeus Black, that Green Archer fellow that Optimus often had to catch over and over again, that crazy little human femme who calls herself Professor Princess, that ginger called Nanosec and any other number of crazies they'd met so far. Humans were _far_ from gullible or innocent. Prowl might find them _fascinating_ but Optimus obviously found them _dangerous_ and Ratchet had to agree.

And Professor Sumdac was indeed a suspicious character. Who accidentally builds grounder/civilian versions of Predacons!? Who breathe _fire_! Or that Soundwave guy! Sure, he became sentient through the repeated use of Sari's AllSpark Key, but Sari used that thing on almost everything and nothing else had come to life except her father's creations! Something was definitely, as the humans would say, fishy on this planet. Optimus seems to have realized this and it put him constantly on edge. Ratchet didn't _want_ to trust someone who was so chummy with Decepticons, but he knew which battles to pick when even his logic processors insisted Optimus _was_ to be trusted. The bot was at least trying to keep them safe and he had never exactly _hid_ his disdain for the Elite Guard and the Autobot 'way of life'. It's not as if he _lied_ though he could have revealed more of the truth, though Ratchet could just _imagine_ his own reaction to being on the same ship as someone who seems to be on speaking terms with the Decepticon High Command.

The medic sighed, knowing he'll have to take this all in, one step at a time. Their lives were changing again, but he hoped they won't get screwed over this time. Optimus doesn't seem the type for that, but he'd also not seemed to type to be what could very well be a criminal mastermind. Ratchet just wanted all of this to be over and maybe take Optimus up on that offer from fifty stellar cycles ago about fixing up Omega, once they were off of this backwater planet.

He prayed for patience from a deity he didn't believe in because Primus knows he'll need it.

_Especially_ if Prowl's interested expression was anything to go by.


	16. Chapter 16

**Head Strategist**

**Summary: A sparkling discarded by its own people becomes one of the most powerful mechs in the universe, much to the shock of those who had thrown him away. Primus watches out for his children, no matter where they end up. And this discarded sparlking has the power to bring peace to a war that has been raging for eons. He only needs to survive.**

Say what you will about Prowl - or cyberninjas in general - but he had been aware of how different and _strange_ Optimus was from the day they've met. The two of them were, in a sense, kindred spirits, their lives spiraling out of their control, neither quite sure of what their purpose was or if they had somewhere to really belong. Prowl had found a place, for a long while, in Master Yoketron's dojo but the bot was now dead and Prowl was a loner and a roamer again and not even by choice on the second part. He could see from the start in Optimus that he was the same, that he had somewhere he should belong but it seemed like he could never go back there. Prowl had found comfort in knowing there was _someone_ who could understand and he never realized he had been taking it for granted.

Not until Starscream came and stole almost all of Optimus' time from the rest of them.

There was history there, between the seeker and the strangely decorated truck, a history that far outweighed Optimus' experiences with the space bridge repair crew, let alone Prowl, who was only with them for about hundred stellar cycles, half of which had been spent in stasis. The two didn't really talk about their past, how they knew each other or why Starscream was so protective and bordering on possessive of Optimus. No matter how subtle or direct a questioning of their connection was, the two wouldn't give up any information. It was driving Sari and Bumblebee insane with curiosity and Ratchet was slowly going from suspicion into paranoia each day, but Prowl was the one who will do something rash if this doesn't get cleared up soon. Before Starscream came along, Optimus had pretty much had tons of time alone to just read or watch historic holovids and snort at them where Prowl would join him in the room to meditate in the presence of a kindred spirit, but now? Now that was practically impossible, since the seeker wanted to catch up and often took Optimus away from the other Autobots for a chat. Call him selfish, but Prowl wanted the old brooding Optimus back, the one that wasn't hiding his depression.

And, _oh_, Prowl could tell he was depressed. It was written all over his faceplates, really. Ever since they crashed on Earth, a part of Optimus had gone dark and Prowl wasn't sure what to think of it. It kind of reminded him of himself after Master Yoketron's offlining, but he couldn't think of what could be causing such a reaction. The cyberninja was kind of ashamed to not have noticed it immediately, having been fascinated by Earth's strange creatures, only noticing it when Optimus tried harder to hide it from Starscream. He had missed the opportunity to be there for the Prime, as now confronting him about it would only further drive Optimus to only hang out with the Decepticon. Knowing there wasn't much he could do to bring the status quo of before crashing to Earth, Prowl had all but given up ...

And then the incident with Lockdown happened and Optimus got protective of him. And Lockdown backed down, almost deferentially, and it brought back a curiosity Prowl had thought he had discarded in face of comfortable camaraderie one hundred stellar cycles ago.

It also brought back at least one Earthly hour where Optimus and Prowl just did their thing in the same room in silence like they were still on the Orion again, which settled the cyberninja into a proper state for meditation.

And it also brought to light just how excited and nervous Optimus was about the arrival of the two Decepticon Lieutenants he had called for. Oh, Optimus was managing well enough to cover it up but Prowl had noticed, and so had Starscream if his amusement over the whole ordeal was anything to go by. Optimus wasn't fidgety or awkward nor did he pull back or pace around like a caged turbotiger. He acted perfectly calm on the outside, but if you brush past him, close enough to feel his EM field, you could sense undercurrents of anxiety. Prowl only recognized it because he was familiar with hiding his own emotions and reactions from the rest of the world, but Optimus seemed to have an even firmer grip on his own than a cyberninja did. It fascinated Prowl, how easily Optimus kept a cool helm in the craziest of situations. Nothing about their current life on Earth was normal and yet he was keeping it together the best, taking everything in stride, looking out for them to the best of his ability. Which kind of left Prowl feeling guilty for not telling him about the Dinobots on the island in Lake Erie and the following confrontation with Meltdown. Optimus seemed like the type of bot who _needed_ to know all the facts because he seemed to be constantly making plans or taking stock of their current situation. He didn't trust humans, especially Professor Sumdac, but Prowl found him to be helpless in front of Sari.

The little human femme, like many other of her kind, admired the Autobots and saw them as heroes. Optimus, as their leader, got most of the attention, even if it appeared as though he was oblivious to it. He wasn't, which showed every time he tried to be a good example for the children and especially for Sari. Sometimes, it was hard to tell who she looked up to the most. Bumblebee and Bulkhead were most definitely her friends and they were even, technically, of a similar mental maturity, seeing how young the two were. Ratchet was her grumpy 'grandpa', as she called him, there to look out for them and scold them for the foolishness of youth. Prowl wasn't sure which role he played but Optimus was the one she definitely wanted approval and acknowledgement from. Which the motorcycle could understand perfectly well. Optimus fit the description of a stoic hero, he drew attention without effort. He was responsible, authoritative and commanding yet kind, gentle and caring. He was also by far one of the best Autobot fighters Prowl had ever seen outside of his Master's dojo. It was easy to admire Optimus. He was mysterious and looked out for everyone. And there was a certain pain to him that drew people in. People who have suffered the most are the wisest and kindest and Optimus fit the bill from what Prowl had seen so far.

A little less mystery wouldn't hurt, though.

Optimus was pretty strict about some things, such as proper training. He insisted that everyone has to be able to defend themselves and each other, in case of another Lockdown-like situation happening where he wasn't there to assist. Even Ratchet and Sari were subjected to combat training twice a week, led by Optimus and Prowl and with the occasional comment from Starscream. The seeker rarely participated, apparently trusting Optimus' ability to properly teach combat situations, which suited Prowl just fine. One more thing to spend time on with just Optimus. After each training session, when everyone else was heaving their vents for cool air, the two of them would fall into different stances and start sparring. Prowl had never met a bot so on par with a trained cyberninja before and was always excited to see the Prime pull out some new move or fighting style. This was something they shared, the love for a good, clean fight. It was easy to see why they could get along so well when they bothered to try. They were pretty similar. And it was easy to guess why Sari would see them as the two leading bots of the Autobots. They were the eldest - not counting Ratchet, who wanted nothing to do with leadership - and the most skilled of the group, easily claiming the positions even if no one knew Optimus Prime was their crew's commander. Though, if Prowl was honest, he himself wasn't exactly leader material. He was a loner by nature. He wasn't meant to lead others wheres Optimus obviously _was_.

Starscream sometimes sparred with Optimus and Prowl had to agree their deadly dance was beautiful in a way. From the first second to the last, neither hesitated, neither held back, knowing the other can take it and withstanding it when the play got a little rough. They practically took turns who won which round of sparring, perfectly tied, which said a lot about Optimus as his opponent _was_ a warframe. It takes a certain amount of skill to stand on equal ground with someone _onlined_ for battle.

The firetruck was a mess of contradictions that Prowl really didn't know what to make of anymore, except that he enjoyed his company and was glad to have excuses to spend some time with his new friend. Which is why he stayed in with Ratchet and the Prime when Sari was going out 'trick or treating' with Bumblebee and Bulkhead, dressed as none other than their leader. Optimus hadn't known how to react but Prowl could tell he was touched. That still didn't mean he was going to join in on the human festivity, staying behind, looking haggard. Prowl opted not to prod until the others left and Ratchet was in recharge - he was an old bot and tended to do that more often than the rest of them - and Starscream gone for a flight - seeker seemed to need those an awful lot to stay sane - only to find Optimus gone and chatter of the comms about Sari being in danger and a spider-lady. The two-wheeler immediately set out to find them, only to arrive by the time everything was done, the spider-femme Decepticon gone and Optimus unconscious on the rooftop of some random building that had been the epicenter of some strange pulses of AllSpark energy. He was shaking the red and blue mech awake when Starscream landed beside him, looked him over and cursed something under his breath about venom. Prowl didn't get the chance to question him about it as Optimus was already waking up, diverting their attention back to him.

Later that night, as Prowl was going out for a drive to ponder some things, he froze near the room with the factory line when he heard two distinguishable voices. Optimus and Starscream. He carefully crept forward just a little more, well aware the two had some _very_ sensitive battle protocols that will alert them to his presence if he's not careful, and just upped the sensitivity of his audials, listening in, trying not to feel guilty.

"-you have to tell me who that was! Where did she come from? How long has she been a Decepticon? Why wasn't I informed of this before?" Optimus asked, sounding angry and demanding of an answer. Starscream shifted before replying.

"She calls herself Blackarachnia and she sent a beacon from Archa 7 about a thousand stellar cycles ago. Hoping it might be you, we investigated but found her. She seemed like a good asset so Megatron accepted her pledge of loyalty and made her a Decepticon, even though we don't exactly trust her as far as a hologram can throw her. We couldn't exactly inform you of any of this, given we couldn't get in contact with you. _Not_ that Strika would let her anywhere _near_ you, so it's not like it matters." The seeker said it all so flippantly but Prowl could only guess what expression Optimus must be making if Starscream shifted again, as though uneasy. "Look, all we really know about her was that she used to be an Autobot but that she now no longer is because they'd never accept her status as half organic. She's a good scientist and she tried helping us by starting project Doppelganger in an attempt to create clones. Her first batch hadn't been a success but she _did_ manage in an experiment of making a tripplechanger. Though that had some ... interesting side effects that you'll see soon enough."

The Prime seemed to be taking deep vents in an attempt to calm himself and Prowl wondered why this was affecting him so much. Did he know this femme? How? Why?

"Her designation used to be Elita One and she was a rather promising cadet at the Autobot Academy," Optimus suddenly said and Starscream drew in a sharp invent. "Yes, _that_ Elita. The one I used to be in class with. The one I went on the emergency patrol with after which I lost contact with you."

"We thought you dead, after our spy told us in which sector the patrol was and that an emergency beacon was received from your ship." There was a pause but not nearly long enough for Prowl to process the fact that there was a Decepticon _spy_ somewhere on Cybertron, probably in Iacon of all places, too. "What happened back then, Optimus? Why did you go to Archa 7? You know better than that!"

"It's not like I _wanted_ to! It was a mutiny!" Optimus snapped back and Prowl was sure Starscream recoiled as much as he did. Optimus never lost his temper. Prowl had never seen him raise his voice unless when yelling commands and even then, he hadn't sounded like this. Then again, why would commands cause him to be so _wrecked_? This was obviously personal and only made Prowl feel more shame and guilt for listening in and even more so for staying now that he realized this. "Sentinel and Elita, whom I _trusted_, went against my explicit, _elaborated and thoroughly explained_ order that we will _not_ be going to Archa 7 for that damned transport ship from two thousand stellar cycles ago because it was _dangerous_! They didn't listen and they landed the ship planet-side anyways! I had to go after them to protect the malfunctions, but I failed anyway! Elita fell behind and I couldn't go back for her because the energon was going to explode! I had to accept my losses and at least save _Sentinel_!" Optimus paused to take in ragged invents, his engine roaring in the silence of the room as his systems tried to cool his frame down after the outburst. Starscream stayed deathly silent, letting it stretch until Optimus spoke up once again. "I got expelled from the Academy and was practically being held hostage in Fortress Maximus for solar cycles until I decided to just frag it and went out for a drive. Ultra Magnus then called for me and practically jettisoned me off the planet on the Orion with a space bridge repair crew, which is what I've been doing since the last time I heard from any of you. I was under constant watch. I couldn't contact you without compromising my own safety."

Now that Prowl thought about it, Ultra Magnus _had_ jumped to call them as soon as Optimus tried to contact the Nemesis to speak with the Decepticons about cessation of fire on their ship. No one had _called_ the Supreme Commander of the Autobots and he hadn't acknowledged any of their existence at all, focused solely on the Prime who verbally flipped him off. He didn't like the idea of being under constant surveillance. How had no one noticed before? Surely Ratchet would have! It's _his_ ship, after all!

"Why didn't you simply use Shockwave's device or manually disable the surveillance devices?" Starscream asked and it got Prowl wondering _why_ Optimus would know to do that. Why would he even be in contact with the Decepticons in the first place, for that matter?

Optimus gave a long sigh, sounding tired as he answered. "They were rigged to blow up the ship if tampered with. Even if we somehow survived the explosion, we'd be stranded and the Autobots would just come and pick us up and I'd be stuck in their servos against my will. _Again_."

Starscream let out what sounded like a growl before silence reigned once again. Prowl was just getting ready to leave when the seeker broke it. "Strika won't let you out of her sight until she offlines when she gets her servos on you."

Optimus snorted, but his tone sounded a lot more relaxed now with this change of topic. "I don't think I'll mind. She has all the same equipment as I need, so it shouldn't be a problem." A pause and Prowl felt a shift in the air that made him rather uncomfortable. "I really missed you all. I wanted nothing more than to just go back. I should have never left. Why did I even need to know how I ended up there in the first place when there was so much more important things in front of me?"

Prowl may not have any idea what his leader was talking about but it seemed Starscream did and perfectly well. "I can understand why you wanted to know. Anyone else would have acted the same if they had been in your situation. And no one blamed you for leaving. We just worried a lot ... And blamed Megatron and Megazarak in equal measure, if I'm honest."

Now Prowl _knew_ this was beyond personal and he deftly left his hiding place as fast as he could. Despite the perfect opportunity to find out just what the Pit was going on, he didn't like intruding on Optimus' privacy like this, even if it could have been useful fir the Autobot cause. But while Prowl wore the badge like every other civilianframe on Cybertron, he held no true loyalty to the faction itself. He appreciated the truth behind the preaching of a machine being stronger as a whole than each of its individual parts, but the Autobots didn't really know how to turn that preaching into practice. At least not the ones Prowl had known in his life. Optimus was ensuring their team knew how to rely on each other, but Prowl could so easily see how not even he himself was listening to Optimus, no matter how much he respected him. After all, he _still_ hadn't told him about the Dinobots.

Then again, Optimus still wasn't telling them anything about himself, either, but that was no excuse. Optimus' past was still in the past while the Dinobots could so easily turn into a very present problem.

In the end, either way, it wasn't their business, what Optimus wasn't willing to share with them. That was his business and they had no right to pry if the Prime himself didn't want to share. It was obvious that much of his past was a painful subject and it was no wonder he avoided reliving that. That, however, didn't mean Prowl wouldn't try to understand what he'd just overheard.

Because, like it or not, Optimus and Starscream both have just revealed that Optimus was in some _deep_ cahoots with the Decepticon Empire, as they called themselves. They knew something about him that no one else did, he had obviously lived among them for some time before leaving, presumably for Cybertron, where it would seem he was ... forced? to join the Autobot Academy. That would explain his distaste for all things Autobot and the fact that his most 'natural' appearance - the intertwining flames he sported now and the glaring lack of _any_ faction symbol - seemed to be neutral to both parties, though he obviously preferred the Decepticons. Probably because they hadn't tried to slap their badge on him. _Possibly_ because he knew them a lot longer, which brought on even more questions about who Optimus was and where he came from.

His name was unusual, to say the least, his frame practically ancient and his finish was _archaic_ despite looking like any detailer's wet dream. The color of his optics was such a unique shade of blue that Prowl was sure he had never even seen it somewhere else before. He was a civilianframe, a hauling type, and yet Prowl could only guess he had some sort of archiving processor. The strangest part regarding that was that there was also no way he didn't have a _warframe_ type processor as well, or at least parts of it. He was too young to be so in tune with his battle protocols. Even Prowl at times struggled, though that might be because he had never finished his cyberninja training.

Optimus was a colossal mystery Prowl wasn't sure should be solved, but one thing was for certain.

There is only more to be learned about him with the arrival of the two Decepticon Lieutenants.


	17. Chapter 17

**Head Strategist**

**Summary: A sparkling discarded by its own people becomes one of the most powerful mechs in the universe, much to the shock of those who had thrown him away. Primus watches out for his children, no matter where they end up. And this discarded sparlking has the power to bring peace to a war that has been raging for eons. He only needs to survive.**

The arrival of Lugnut and Blitzwing a couple of Earth days later went about as well as Optimus could have ever hoped for, really. They landed in Detroit, on top of some poor construction sight, and utterly wrecked it just from the landing, let alone their 'interrogation' of the present 'lifeforms' that were human construction equipment. The arrival of the Autobots and Starscream alongside Optimus nearly ended in Lugnut using POKE when Bumblebee insisted Megatron was offlined, which was a spikesheat move, by the way, and utterly foolish. What worried Optimus was that Lugnut had suddenly started acting weird - well, _weirder_, even for Lugnut's standards - and then just grabbed a protesting Blitzwing - who seems to have suffered from some _severe_ schizophrenia after Eli- Blackarachnia's experiments on him to create a tripplechanger - and took off without warning. Optimus had exchanged a glance with the Decepticon Second in Command and Starscream had went after them to ensure they don't do something incredibly _stupid_. Which will be a miracle in itself, but one can hope.

The civilianframes, meanwhile, just took to what they generally did best and started cleaning up Lugnut's and Blitzwing's mess. Optimus swore he was running a sparkling daycare for half of his function rather than an army. He _really_ never should have left the Emperion that day. His place was definitely on a command bridge and _not_ fixing organics' construction sights. Still, it gave him something to do other than ponder his life choices that have led to his 'fall from grace' or a _different_ kind of fall he was still trying not to think of. Or even his own and Starscream's _literal_ fall that had ended with him offlining for a short while and passing into the Well of AllSparks.

Just the reminder of that day had him thinking about the strange - what, exactly? A dream? More like spark-deep spiritual experience - whatever it was that he had gone through. That place of impossible light and thick mist, the barriers that separated those not yet quite dead from the offlined and those not quite on either side from both sides. It had him remembering that impossible conversation he had had with Megatron and wondering if any of it had actually been _real_ or not. And then that even _more impossible_ part, the one with the voice he had only once heard before, back on Cybertron. Deep down, his spark knew whom he'd spoken to but Optimus wasn't going to jump to conclusions. It could just as easily be his processor playing tricks on him due to grief or stress. He'd definitely been both both times he'd heard it. But those glowing eyes of the same color as his, those reaching servos, the eleven sparks that had tried connecting with his own ...

He shook his helm, focusing back on welding a broken pipe back together. _'It was just a dream. Stop obsessing over it.'_ Oh, but if only it were so easy! It's been one of the things plaguing his mind ever since he nearly permanently died. It put life in a whole new perspective and had Optimus reviewing his memory files dedicated to the stories Cyclonus used to tell him about Primus, the AllSpark and the Primes. It had him remembering his strange encounter with Alpha Trion by the Well of AllSparks in Iacon and the weird reaction he had had to touching the engraving of his name on that stasis pod on Archa 7 that must have been his. It had him pulling up all the texts he's ever read on the subject late into the night, trying to make sense of it all. The chances of him thinking about it less were next to zero. And _that_ was generous. He had a tendency to over-analyze by nature and that was when things were mundane and unconnected to him, his life or his priorities and beliefs. This, though? This was very much real and _very_ personal. He knew the AllSpark had been said to be able to do all sorts of things, but bringing back his old appearance? It seemed a little bellow a godly relic's list of priorities, if you asked Optimus.

Then again, what does he, a mech of a little over two thousand stellar cycles of age, know about the AllSpark's or Primus' intentions and priorities? He may have seen both sides of their species and spoken to colonies mecha and other bots that live off of Cybertron, neutrals or not, but he was still very inexperienced, very young. He had seen so much and yet not enough. Who says he has the experience and knowledge to judge anything something as ancient as a piece of their Creator's very own Spark does? He may have been both Head Strategist of the Decepticons - and their Lord, now, in Megatron's regrettably possibly permanent absence - and an Autobot Prime, but that's it. He wasn't anything special, except the first sparkling anyone had seen in centuries. That didn't mean he had the understanding to make sense of his very messed up life.

"You okay there, Bossbot? You seem kind of down." Optimus snapped out of his thoughts upon hearing Bulkhead's question, turning to look at his young friend. They were actually all looking at him with a bit of concern and he forced a smile onto his dermas. He didn't need them worrying - or prying - about his personal business and deepest thoughts.

"I'm fine, just wondering what is taking Starscream, Lugnut and Blitzwing so long."

"You don't think they decided to double-cross us by taking the AllSpark and leaving us here, do you?" A slightly panicked and overreacting Bumblebee asked and Optimus resisted rolling his optics.

"Bumblebee, the day they leave _me_ behind for _any_ reason is the day they sign their own name to the very top of the List. Now, Starscream is already in enough slag after the stunt he pulled, so you can bet your motherboard that, if anyone, it will be him that insists on them coming back for me. And that is _only_ if Lugnut suddenly decides to for some unfathomable reason go against Strika's orders, which isn't going to be happening any time soon, unless Megatron himself tells him otherwise." At the stares he gets, the Prime just shrugs, going back to clearing the rubble. "Warframes have much more discipline than Autobots want to give them credit for. A commander says jump, they won't even ask how high, they'll anticipate it. They're made for war, made to be dangerous and aggressive and powerful, but most of all, they're made to fight in any set of circumstances. They used to be Cybertron's race of warriors and protectors before the Functionist Senate degraded them below tools and slag. They were forced into mines, to work on the smelting pits or simply _into_ smelting pits if their repairs would be too costly or time consuming and anyone who tried to defy them or broke any laws would be sent to fight in the Gladiatorial Pits of Kaon, Tarn or Altihex or anywhere else they could host them. It's what led to their rebellion. Imagine going from a respected warrior and _protector_ to an easily replaceable tool, worth only for your usefulness or the metal of your frame. _I_ would rebel, let alone a race used to soaring the skies and fighting for their people. Can you even _imagi_-"

"Boring!" Optimus tried not to let his optic twitch at Bumblebee's interruption. "Come _on_, Bossbot!" Whined the yellow racer, not seeing Ratchet scowl at him or Prowl facepalm. And he definitely didn't see Sari showing him to cut it off or Bulkhead's nervous expression. "That's _boring_! Who _cares_ about the past and _especially_ about the Cons! They started it, the Autobots ended it, everyone's happy, everything's _good_! No one cares why it all happened, especially not about their sob stories of propaganda!"

Counting backwards from one million in the Kaonean dialect - currently one of the few things he _did_ know in it - in order _not_ to punch Bumblebee in the faceplates, Optimus just turned around, reminded all over again why he _hated_ all the years he'd spent around Autobots. They brainwashed their new generations so they never care to ask questions or wonder why a tragedy like the Great War even started. They just teach them that they should want to fight Decepticons and be useful to the Autobot system, to be 'a part of the great Autobot machine'. Had Optimus not been _raised_ with the knowledge of how to _recognize_ propaganda, he'd probably have bought it, too. Or maybe not, given he was naturally curious. History was his passion. He wasn't sure he'd ever really be himself if he wasn't interested in what had shaped the world he lives in. The Head Strategist can take it when someone mocks his interest in the past and understands some people are just not very open-minded, but he will _never_ let it lie for someone to spew slag about the bots who had saved and raised him. And he'll never stand for someone to recite back propaganda at him without even knowing or understanding its origin.

What irked him the most about Bumblebee's current behavior, though, was the utter lack of respect the racer was showing. Optimus had come to accept that he was too dull to understand the need of respecting a commander, but Bumblebee could at least _try_ to respect him as a _person_, except it seemed to be too much for the speedster. And that's where Optimus was drawing the line. He had _had_ it up to _here_ with Autobots! Thank _Primus_ he can go _home_ now! And he won't _ever_ feel bad about taking Cybertron from them. In fact, he's going to initiate an old plan he had been hesitant to use before, but he's so _had it_. It was obvious stopping the war and the lies being mongered in it was for the best of their species as a whole, not to mention that the AllSpark was kind of _needed_ to _save_ their species from eventual extinction. The Autobots threw it away, so screw them.

He heard the others berating Bumblebee as he started marching away, intent on getting some time alone and contacting his former caretakers to see what's been holding them up, when his battle protocols suddenly blared almost audible warning in his helm about projectile. He whirled around just in time to see a ship-sized ball of fire enter the Earth's atmosphere, heading for downtown Detroit and he cursed his luck as his battle computers recognized the vague shape and coloration even through the flames.

"As if this day couldn't get any _more_ annoying!" He huffed, looking back down to the space bridge repair crew he'd been assigned. "Any of you say _anything_ about my deal and past with the Decepticons to the Elite Guard, you can be damn well sure you won't see the light of day again. Sari," he turned towards the only human he actually liked. She didn't always listen to him but she respected him and even admired him. She reminded him a bit of a young and idealistic Elita One and he was helpless in growing fond of her. Which only made him want to do right by her like he had never managed with Elita. Though maybe he'll get a chance for that, too, now that she was technically one of his. Those thoughts, though, were for a later date. He had more pressing matters to attend to at the moment. "Autobots are fairly paranoid about organics and I don't want them finding out about your Key. Please go back to the Plant and try to contact Starscream from our computer and alert him about the arrival of the Elite Guard, if he isn't already aware of it. Try to stop him and the others from getting involved. It's not exactly a good idea to fight Ultra Magnus, especially on an organic planet that can have as severe storm clouds as yours does."

"Wait, how can you be so sure Ultra Magnus is on that ship? Or that it's the Elite Guard?" Bulkhead asked even as he and the others fell in step behind Optimus as they cleared the half repaired construction sight so they can speed down the highway towards where the ship must have landed by now.

"Oh, _believe_ me, it's them and he's here." The Prime wasn't exactly thrilled by that, either, and he didn't bother hiding it. "It'll never be someone else to try and drag me back under his pede. Only this time, it's not going to be so easy." He transformed and started heading towards the ship, Prowl coming to drive by his side, the recognizable blue and white form of what had once been Sigma Supreme but was now simply Steelhaven coming into view moments later. They drove up to where the human police had set up a perimeter and Optimus reluctantly pushed through them to greet his 'Commander' just as the shuttle bay started opening. The Autobots, even Prowl, all saluted as the tall white and blue mech with a big hammer came into view, but Optimus didn't so much as twitch. If he had ever had the impulse to do it, it would have evaporated as soon as he saw a familiar dark blue and orange, big-chinned tow-truck that stood on Ultra Magnus' right side. It would seem Sentinel moved on quite well from Elita's death. With Optimus washing out of the Academy and Elita's death, Sentinel had technically become the best of their class. He seems to have joined the Elite Guard and scored himself the place of protégé under Ultra Magnus himself.

Optimus had never before been more grateful that he had been thrown out of the Academy. That would have been _his_ fate, had he stayed. He would have never left Cybertron at all.

"Ultra Magnus, welcome to Earth, sir." Ratchet, in a perfect salute, stood to his left as he greeted the Autobot Supreme Commander, but the big civilianframe didn't pay the medic or any of the other bots a single glance, Autobot blue optics trained on Optimus from the start.

"Optimus Prime," the largest mech present greeted, not at all bothered by the lack of respect Optimus always displayed towards him, well used to it by now. Though, he _did_ arch an optic ridge when he registered the change the Prime had gone through. Optimus made sure to cross his servos in a way that showed off the flames that were back, practically taunting the Autobot leader, as if saying 'I'm not yours anymore' with that gesture alone. It was a bit difficult to show off the flames at the same time as displaying where his Autobot badge used to be. He still felt enormous pride to once again see himself factionless. _This_ was what he was supposed to look like. _This_ was the Decepticon Head Strategist, their Lord of Destruction, Strika's protégé and Megatron's heir. And now, he was the Lord of Decepticons and he was about to return to his rightful place at the bridge of one of their warships. He really didn't want to deal with Ultra Magnus when he was literally Earth hours away from finally leaving this whole nightmare behind.

"Optimus, old buddy, old pal!" Sentinel, after regaining his composure upon realizing the extravagantly decorated mech was indeed his stiff, always serious former Academy friend, crowed with fake delight, wearing the fakest smile on his faceplates that Optimus had ever seen. "I thought you might have survived despite us loosing all trace of your dingy ship. You do have a penchant for surviving at the expense of others, after all."

"Sentinel," the Head Strategist greeted coolly, not at all bothered by his snide comments. Perhaps just a decacycle ago, guilt would have engulfed him like all-consuming flames, but that was before he knew Elita One had survived and had found a place for herself somewhere Optimus could reach her. The femme wasn't aware of it, but she was on Optimus' turf once more, only a lot more permanently unless she wanted to be labeled a traitor. The DJD had their job, after all, and not even Optimus was to interfere with their primary duties of hunting down deserters and traitors to the Cause. "As obtuse as ever. Are we done here?" He directed the question immediately to Ultra Magnus, not really wanting to spend a second longer in his or the now spluttering and fuming Sentinel's presence than absolutely necessary. He didn't even wait for an answer, just nodding. "Good."

And before anyone could stop him, he turned back around and marched off, leaving the Autobots to deal with their Commander and starting to try and reach out to his former caretakers. He just wants to take the AllSpark and get off the planet as soon as possible.

"Hey! Wait just a minute! Stop!" He heard Sentinel shouting behind him, no doubt chasing after him, but the firetruck couldn't care less. He had places to be, bots to see, artifacts to collect and a planet to conquer. So he just continued walking on, Sumdac Tower in his view, ignoring his former friend as he tried to intimidate him with, to Optimus, empty threats. "Stop right this instant or else I'll have you court martialed!"

"Frag off, Sentinel. I'm not in the mood for your shenanigans."

"Shenan- How dare you!?" Optimus just rolled his optics and came to a stop, turning around to glare death at the big-chinned Prime. He wasn't surprised to see 'his' team, Magnus and that cyberninja Elite Guard mech following, watching in varying states of shock, incredulousness, curiosity and confusion, though Ultra Magnus remained as expressionless as ever. Optimus wondered if he even had an emotion module, because he sure as hell wasn't displaying its functionality. "Do you even know who I am!?"

"_Yes_, I _do_. You're the stuck-up bot Elita One introduced me to during that propaganda lecture that passes of as a history class to you Autobots. You're the pain in the aft that couldn't sit three hours straight to do some studying or reading and instead liked to drag me all over Iacon to pubs and clubs when I could be spending my time much more constructively. You're the simpleton who scuffed at the idea of going to the Primal Basilica and who would rather watch a movie with a mindless plot and lots of explosions instead of reading a high quality datapad. You're the _idiot_ who _insisted_ we go to Archa 7, went against direct orders from your acting commander and senior cadet by landing our ship on a forbidden planet and got Elita One killed and then blamed it all on _me_ for _saving your life_ instead of letting you die in a helpless and utterly futile attempt at saving Elita's life. So, _yes_, Sentinel, I know _exactly_ who you are now _frag off_ before I loose my cool and-"

"And what?" Sentinel, enraged for all his faults to be so carelessly said out loud for everyone to hear and judge him, snarled, tipping his chin up challengingly at the brighter Prime. He completely ignored the white cyberninja's "Sentinel, ain't that _the_ Optimus who has all the best scores in the Academy's history? You _sure_ you want to torque him off?" and even Ultra Magnus' sharp and warning "Sentinel," so completely focused on Optimus and his assurance that he knew how the firetruck Prime would react. "You'll blow something up?"

And Optimus, finally having had enough of it all, opened his intake, ready to lay it in on Sentinel like never before, but felt a strange surge of energy and faltered for just a second-

And then the top of Sumdac Tower blew up.


	18. Chapter 18

**Head Strategist**

**Summary: A sparkling discarded by its own people becomes one of the most powerful mechs in the universe, much to the shock of those who had thrown him away. Primus watches out for his children, no matter where they end up. And this discarded sparlking has the power to bring peace to a war that has been raging for eons. He only needs to survive.**

The tall building that was the Sumdac Tower blew up in a spectacular show of incredibly bright light shooting towards the sky, the cause of it all an energy surge so powerful that had almost all of Detroit falling on their backsides from the backlash. The humans couldn't even look upon the light while the Cybertronians present all mostly had to shield their optics if they wanted to observe.

All expect Optimus, who was starring at the familiar light with shock and awe and _hope_ as his bizarre maybe-dream came back to mind, the words of the mech who held his spark echoing in his processor over and over again. He couldn't believe this was happening, couldn't even dare hope for it to be a possibility. Because, how could it? He already had several miracles happen to him in relatively quick succession. Finding the AllSpark, surviving the Nemesis' onslaught, seeing Megatron what he thought would be one last time, managing to avoid obliterating Detroit fifty stellar cycles ago when they were falling through the Earth's atmosphere with a badly damaged engine with the help of the AllSpark, surviving the crash into Lake Eire, Sari being able to fix up Prowl with her new Key, being brought back to life after falling from insane heights - for a civilianframe - and a building crushing him and Starscream, getting one last chance to say sorry to Megatron, being reformed by the AllSpark back into his original form and even finding out Elita One was _alive_! That was already more miracles in fifty stellar cycles than any other bot would experience in a lifetime, so this _has_ to be a dream. There was simply _no way_ he was this lucky.

"Stand behind me!" He was surprised when Ultra Magnus yelled, pushing all the Autobots and Optimus himself behind him and Sentinel, who was shaking in fear and shock but had instinctively activated his shield and formed a dome to protect them all from any possible threat that might come their way. Not that it would be overly useful if what Optimus thought was happening _was_ happening.

"What in the name of the AllSpark is going on!?" The only other Prime yelled over the rumbling noise, fear thick in his vocalizer. Optimus could feel it in everyone's EM fields that they were _terrified_ of the unknown phenomenon taking place, even the Magnus, and yet he himself felt no fear. Then again, he _was_ the sparkling who had stood before the entirety of DJD and cried because _they_ have suffered. Besides, his senses were registering Starscream, Blitzwing and Lugnut at the top of the tower and were starting to register a signature he had thought he would never be in the presence of again. And even if it _wasn't_ there, had this been a danger to him, the three Decepticon Officers would have whisked him away in nanoseconds to safety lest they garner the wrath of Strika or, Primus help them, the DJD if he were to get hurt.

That aside, a sudden thought occurred to Optimus, filling him with triumph, relief that his 'gut instinct' was still good as ever and dread and anger as it fully registered in his processor. "I _knew_ it. Professor Sumdac _was_ hiding something in regards to his robot empire."

"What's that supposed to mean?" The white cyberninja asked over the noise before waving at Optimus in greeting. "Yo. Name's Jazz. Nice ta meet you." He looked down at a scanner he must have pulled out of his subspace, frowned behind his visor and then showed the scanner's screen to Optimus. "That's a _lot_ of AllSpark energy. The readings are off the scale! Do you know what it means?"

"Are you saying," Prowl spoke up from where he and Jazz were crowding Optimus, looking briefly to the scanner, at the glowing tower and back to Optimus again. "That Professor Sumdac's had a Cybertronian in his possession this whole time and built his business by reverse engineering _our_ biotechnology?"

Ratchet, who was listening to their conversation with rapt attention, would have paled if it were possible for a robot when the implications of just _whom_ would have been in Sumdac's lab given who _else_ had landed in Earth's orbit besides themselves. "You mean to tell me that Sumdac, this _whole_ time, had ... "

Something finally burst through the top of the Sumdac Tower, the light slowly dying down, not that _that_ helped any when the Autobots saw who had been in the middle of it all. The alt mode might have changed through some strange twist of fate to fit in with Earth vehicles, but the towering warframe was unmistakable. Thick, gunmetal gray plating, broad shoulder pauldrons, narrow waist, heavy legs that hid powerful flight thrusters, strong servos and black hands gripping twin swords, accents of red in the paint job, the proud, purple Decepticon sigil right over the spark chamber and old, intelligent, cunning red optics, Lord Megatron of the Decepticons was unmistakable even to the stupidest fool, especially since his one of a kind Fusion Cannon was _really_ hard to miss. He radiated power, confidence and authority just by hovering there, in front of the smoke of his escaped prison, observing the Autobots quaking in fear just at the sight of him with bored disgust as he slowly started descending.

"Megatron," Bumblebee gulped, starting to shake in his plating a little bit, shifting closer to Optimus rather than Ultra Magnus as the legendary Champion of the Gladiatorial Pits landed with an intimidating yet elegant thud on the ground not too far away from them. He observed them all with dispassionate optics, like they were just bugs under his pedes, until his gaze fell on Optimus and said both felt a shiver of delight travel through his frame.

"Stay back, Megatron!" Ultra Magnus said in his most commanding voice, but the other faction's leader just scuffed and started slowly prowling towards them, not at all intimidated or bothered by the lightning show Magnus made to discourage him with the Magnus Hammer. "Stay back and no one has to get hurt."

"Not until I take what is rightfully mine," the even larger mech replied, gesturing with one sword vaguely towards Optimus. The Prime felt his team freeze around him, fear and worry for him in their fields, though he could also feel Prowl's optics on him, despite the visor. He did, after all, have battle protocols which were going haywire right now. "You. You and I have some unfinished business."

"I will not let you harm one of my Autobots, Megatron," the blue and white leader claimed, signaling Sentinel to put down his shield and stepping towards the still slowly approaching Decepticon Lord, Magnus Hammer poised for a fight. He was not, however, ready for Optimus to _finally_ take his opportunity and engage the wheels at his pedes like human roller blades to zoom past the surprised Magnus, launching himself at the _much_ bigger and very much armed bot _without_ taking out any weapon himself. "Optimus Prime, now is not the time for heroics! You might have almost defeated the simulation but this is real life combat-"

He was, of course, ignored as Optimus finally jumped at the warlord. "Megatron!" And there was an excited, gleeful gleam in those red optics, the Autobots all watching in collective horror as he reached upwards with both servos-

And it only then occurred to them that Optimus, the most battle ready bot any of them know, hadn't slid on his battlemask _or_ taken out any weapons _nor_ did the name being called sound like a battle cry. And it only occurred to them at all because Optimus threw his servos around Megatron's neck while the gray warlord caught the firetruck with what could only be practiced ease through repeated experiences, tucking the younger bot in close, gripping him like he might disappear if his hold falters. And the Autobots could only stare in flabbergasted _shock_ as both mechs' EM fields flared out in happiness, relief, _content_ and boundless _affection_ that was so _strong_ it nearly had them all staggering under its intensity. They couldn't help but _gawk_ as the fiercest gladiator of Kaon and one of the deadliest mechs in the universe _cuddled_ a _civilianframe_ that was practically _cooing_ in his hold that could so easily extinguish his spark or crush him if the warlord were just to squeeze too hard.

"You're here. You're actually _online_," Optimus, ignoring their audience, mumbled in strut-crushing relief against his once primary caretaker's chestplates, not really sure if he believed his sensory receptors at the moment, still so sure this was just a _dream_. "I'm so glad. I thought you were _dead_."

"For a while there, I really was." And _oh_, how he had missed that deep, gravely, smooth as velvet voice. Optimus already felt like he was home. It already felt like the past millennium hadn't happened outside of some garish, horrible nightmare and Optimus felt every strut, every cable relax. "It feels so good to hold you like this again, little one."

The Head Strategist choked out a strangled laugh, burrowing in even closer. "You're telling me." He tightened his hold and felt Megatron's tighten in turn. "I never want us to be apart again. I want to go _home_."

"We _are_ going home, Optimus. And good luck ever getting out of any of our sights for the rest of your function." And Optimus just laughed at the threatening promise, feeling better than he has in far too long. Since the fight with Megazarak, really, or maybe even longer, ever since he realized his feelings for Megatron and had to endure seeing him take various partners to berth.

"Optimus Prime," at that moment, Ultra Magnus' voice pierced through their little bubble of contentedness, drawing their attention towards the Autobot leader. He stood there, stock still and utterly flabbergasted by what he was seeing, optics wide and intake struggling to form words. Around him, the other Autobots were no better off. Not that Optimus _blames_ them. It's not _everyday_ that an _Autobot_ jumps eagerly into the arms of a Decepticon and their Lord, no less. But, then again, Optimus _wasn't_ and has _never been_ an Autobot, even when their badge was slapped onto him against his will, so there's that. "What is the meaning of this!?" And now the Magnus sounded half enraged, still too shocked and incredulous to really pull himself together.

That, though, was still enough for Megatron to put Optimus down behind himself and take a protective stance, ready to fight at a moment's notice. He was probably itching for it by now. The last time Optimus had seen him, it had been _weeks_ ago and it had been inside the AllSpark. He's a warframe and there's not much of a fight he can pick in the afterlife. Not to _mention_ that he had been pretty much isolated by those barriers that neither let him join the dead nor the living. Besides, this was _Ultra Magnus_. Megatron had never had _more_ reason to hate the other faction's leader than after he had not only stolen Optimus' freedom but had then pitched _Optimus_ against a virtual version of _Megatron_ in that simulator. The Prime knew Megatron had been torn apart at having to watch Optimus fight the instinctive fear and the confusion his systems were creating as his battle protocols deemed Megatron both enemy and most trusted ally. Optimus knew that if Megatron got his clawed servos - though they looked a lot blunter with his new Earth vehicle alt mode, probably because everything was so _blocky_ on this planet - on Ultra Magnus right now, he'll tear him apart with his bare hands and as _much_ as he would appreciate the sight of the source of much of his problems over the centuries, now was not the time.

Besides, Optimus wants _revenge_. He wants Ultra Magnus to realize he had made a grave mistake in making himself into Optimus' personal enemy. He wants Ultra Magnus to watch in despair as Optimus conquers Cybertron right in front of his optics in three short war operations. He wants to see the realization on his faceplates when he realizes _why_ he's made himself the enemy of the Decepticon Empire's Head Strategist.

So he puts a blue servo on Megatron's forearm to stop him from saying or doing anything that might reveal Optimus' true identity to the Autobots, answering himself instead. "I've never been your soldier, Magnus, and I've never hidden this fact. You forced it on me when I had come to my home planet as a neutral, you imprisoned me in a gold cage and bragged about my talents. By doing so, you've gravely insulted the Decepticons, for I am well liked amongst them and they were not happy when they could no longer visit me."

"So you've been a traitor this whole time!" Sentinel accused and Optimus scuffs, offended, crossing his servos over his chest and glaring at his 'once friend'.

"A traitor is only someone who betrays their own sworn loyalty to another party. I've never sworn any oaths to the Autobots. I've been forced into your ranks against my will. You can be sure that the Galactic Council will be right outraged when they hear about this."

"The Galactic Council? But they don't deal with Cybertronians!" Ratchet looked at him with all that suspicion and need to study him that he's been harboring ever since the AllSpark brought Optimus back to life. He can understand his skepticism, though that doesn't stop him from being slightly offended. It was true that the Galactic Council and all of its members have grown sick and tired of all the Autobot-Decepticon wars and skirmishes and as such want nothing to do with them, but ...

Megatron grinned proudly, displaying his sharp fangs for the effect of intimidation. It, as always, worked as the Autobots couldn't help but flinch a little. His reputation preceded him, of course. "Optimus has always been an exception to many rules. The Galactic Council likes him and he negotiates with them in the name of the Decepticons." Which will only serve to further have the Council vouch in the Decepticons' favor when they hear of the atrocities the Autobots did to the _one_ Cybertronian they didn't hate. Optimus can already see the realization dawning on the Magnus and can't help but feel a bit smug. Megatron, though, drew his attention away from the Autobots with his next question, directed right to Optimus. "Now, where is the AllSpark and your ship, so we can fix it and get off of this wretched planet?"

"We'll never let you take the AllSpark!" Sentinel exclaimed, taking out his lance and falling into a fighting stance. Optimus notes he's not as clumsy about it as he had always been to him. Then again, he was about thirteen centuries old by now. If he hadn't mastered the most basic of battle stances, it would be embarrassing. "You're outnumbered and surrounded. In the name of the Elite Guard, you are under arrest for war crimes and treachery."

Megatron burst out laughing while Optimus wondered if Sentinel had lost his logic unit somewhere along the way from Cybertron because _seriously_!? Didn't he know Megatron could go through a battalion of civilianframes, unarmed, all on his own and come out with barely a scratch to his finish? That he used to take on multiple opponents of Lugnut's or Strika's size in the Gladiatorial Arena and come out with only a few scrapes? That he once took on an Omega Sentinel by himself and came out as the victor? Frag, he survived an overload of his circuitry that ended up in a severe explosion and had then fell into the thick atmosphere of an _organic_ planet and was now still alive somehow! He was one of the three only mechs in the universe who can beat the slag out of the Phase Sixers and the rest of DJD! A group of seven Autobots, even if one of them _was_ Ultra Magnus with the Magnus Hammer, would _not_ be enough to subdue him, even after he'd just been brought back to life!

But Megatron didn't just go forward and execute them all dramatically heroic. Instead, he looked a bit upwards and transmitted his voice loud enough to be heard for half a mile. "Come to me, my loyal Decepticons!" And a moment later, Starscream, Lugnut and Blitzwing landed by their leader, Blitzwing holding Isaac Sumdac between his fingers so he was half dangling in the air while Sari sat a bit nervously on Starscream's palm, looking quite a bit disappointed in her father. Lugnut, though, bowed to Megatron, going briefly into his usual anthem to the gray mech's greatness, before scooping up Optimus and placing him behind himself. The flamed truck didn't even bother rolling his optics. It was just typical Lugnut and this must have been Strika's orders.

"You just _had_ to open your _fragging_ mouth!" Ratchet hissed at Sentinel as the big-chinned Prime cowered back and Optimus fought back a snicker. He always knew Sentinel's arrogance will get the better of him.

Megatron didn't boast, though there was no denying the smug smirk in his tone as he spoke, for even _with_ the Magnus Hammer in hand, the Autobot Supreme Commander will be overwhelmed with so many warframes to fight, especially given Lugnut's thick armor. "The four space bridge repair bots are under Optimus' protection and they will go unharmed. You, on the other hand, have this as your _final_ warning to _leave_ or else I'll use you as a warm-up."

Optimus peeked around Lugnut to watch as the Magnus struggled with himself to swallow his pride and finally nodded in acceptance. "This isn't over, Megatron," he warned even as he covered Sentinel's and Jazz's retreat. "You will pay for this humiliation out on the battlefield. Mark my words. The Decepticons will _fall_." They watched him go, Optimus' team staying awkwardly behind because they really had no idea what to do but trusting Optimus to keep them safe. He'd been successful so far, so they knew he won't fail them now. It filled Optimus with warmth and a certain fondness for them and he knew they were going to be another Elita One, no matter how insensitive Bumblebee can sometimes be. He'll learn.

But Magnus' threat won't go unnoticed. He was threatening Optimus' family. He was threatening the bots that had raised him, taught him, trained him. Made him the mech he was today. His friends, his caretakers. The mecha he cared most about.

His _soldiers_.

_His_ Decepticons.

"Not on my watch."


	19. Chapter 19

**Head Strategist**

**Summary: A sparkling discarded by its own people becomes one of the most powerful mechs in the universe, much to the shock of those who had thrown him away. Primus watches out for his children, no matter where they end up. And this discarded sparlking has the power to bring peace to a war that has been raging for eons. He only needs to survive.**

"Well, that was tense, ahahahaha!" Blitzwing's Random person cackled as soon as the Steelhaven promptly left Earth's atmosphere and Optimus felt like he could invent normally again. Though he glanced warily at the black face and glowing red eyes and strange jagged mouth, still not used to what had happened to Blitzwing in his pursuit to be the first ever tripplechanger. He should really talk ethics with their scientists.

"I'm just glad they seem to have _one_ logic circuit, even if the entirety of their ranks shares it between them," Starscream sniffed and Sari chuckled, drawing Optimus attention to her. He walked over to the seeker and extended his palms for her, Starscream gladly relinquishing the little human. He seemed relieved and Sari appeared much more comfortable with Optimus than the Decepticon.

"You okay? _What_ are you even doing here? I thought I told you to go to the Plant," the Prime scolds and Sari huffs.

"I _was_ going to the Plant when pincer hands here," she indicated at Lugnut, who looked unapologetic. Probably an order from Megatron, then. "Swooped in and took me home, only for me to find out my dad's been keeping a decapitated robot _head_ in his lab all this time!" The girl exclaims and Optimus suddenly feels queasy in his tank, looking up at Megatron and desperately trying not to picture it. It was very hard.

"Is that where you've been all this time? Were you ... aware?"

Megatron looked quite displeased to be discussing his more than vulnerable state as of late, all but grinding out through clenched dentae. "Unfortunately. I came back online sometime after _you_ nearly died in Starscream's stupidity-" The seeker looked as guilty and ashamed as one could be, terrified, too. Probably thinking about what the DJD, if not Megatron himself, will do to him. "And we had that strange chat in the Well. I used the screens and the pathetic machinery around me to create a surveillance system to keep an optic on you or try and fix my frame, though the latter wasn't coming easy since the materials of this planet are of a lesser worth than cosmic waste. When I saw Lugnut and Blitzwing arrive, I sent out a transmission to Lugnut and had them meet me here. Starscream came along, we discussed his punishment before I sent him to get young Ms Sumdac and her AllSpark Key to repair me as well as Lugnut and Blitzwing to search for the rest of my body."

"We were lucky that it was pretty much still mostly intact when we found it near a mine shaft. We just had to bring it back," Blitzwing's Icy persona answered in his thick accent. Optimus looked up at Megatron while fighting to keep grim amusement from showing on his face or in his EM field, but Megatron knew what he was thinking and just rolled his optics.

"Yes, I _am_ aware of the irony of the mine, Optimus. There is a _reason_ I had _warframes_ who worked in them look for my body and not _Starscream_." The red and blue bot could only be thankful that the civilians had never tried forcing seekers underground. There would have been quite a few suicides and massacres. Seekers were meant for open skies. There was a reason Vos floated well above Cybertron's clouds. And while seekers were practically _made_ for scouting and searching from the skies, Starscream would never be able to detect anything on his sensors if the minerals of a mine were messing with the signal.

"So Sari fixed you up with her Key?"

"Yes."

"And what about Professor Sumdac?" He refused to even look at the man. He had always known something wasn't quite right with the short, chubby human. Though, this time, he honestly hated he had been right.

"The hideous human walked in moments before his nice offspring was going to repair Lord Megatron," Lugnut replied, falling into reverence at his master's name and Optimus barely restrained a giggle at the twitch in Megatron's right optic. Some things never change and he had never found it so comforting as he did now.

"Were you?" He asks Sari, amused and a bit confused as to why she would help when the Autobots she knew have made it pretty clear what they thought of the opposing faction.

Sari shrugged, twiddling with her fingers. "I kind of just asked myself what you would do and went with that."

_'Well, I wasn't expecting that.'_ _Or_ the emotional feedback such a response garnered. He knew Sari sort of looked up to him but he had never thought it might be this serious. "I'm kind of biased, though."

The little redhead scuffs, sending him an unimpressed look that somehow spoke volumes. "And the others weren't? At least from what I got from your rant earlier on, I knew you were obviously more informed about all of these things! Besides, I listened to the things you said and Starscream, while annoying, didn't act like a mindless killing machine like some of the stories Bumblebee told me suggested all Cons acted like. And while they can be _rude_," she glares at Lugnut at that and Optimus snickers when the huge bot seems to cower sheepishly under her sharp, reprimanding gaze. It's hilarious to see something so small intimidate someone so big (He may or may not be ignoring the fact that he himself had once been in the same position as Sari, only against two most powerful of the DJD members). Then again, Sari has quite a voice and quite a pair of lungs on her. It can be deafening on sensitive Cybertronian audials. "So can be the Autobots."

"To be fair, besides Sentinel, on a scale from Professor Princess to Meltdown, most Autobots are just a solid Green Arrow. None of them are quite so drastic. Just ignorant," Optimus shrugged, smiling at the giggle that escaped Sari. He may not be as close to her or as fond of humans in general as the rest of the space bridge repair bots, but he knew she needed a distraction from what her father had done regarding a sentient being. _Not_ the fifty stellar cycles in which Megatron might have as well been dead, but in the weeks following his awakening where he had not acted towards him as a person, just as a _thing_. Sari didn't deserve to stress over this.

"Oh, I didn't mean _Sentinel_. He's a dic-"

"Sari!" Admonished the Prime but she only continued on as though he hadn't said anything.

"I was _talking_ about _Ratchet_, since he's always so grumpy all the time. You can't really compare an intellectual to an idiot."

"I like this one," Megatron snorted in amusement and most of the tension left the air. Well, the Autobots were still fairly petrified of the Decepticons, but at least they were no longer so highly strung. Instead, they just awkwardly kind of stood there, not really sure what they should do. The warlord paid them no heed, turning his helm in Optimus' direction. "Lugnut and Blitzwing tell me they managed to crash their ship on the Moon and Starscream has apparently had no better luck with his own ship."

"At least I had decided against coming on the Nemesis and crashing _it_ into that glob of rock," the seeker in question grumbled and Optimus just shook his helm.

"So you're saying we have _no_ means of getting off of this planet?"

"What about _your_ ship? It's still intact, yes? We can just fix it up." Optimus grimaced at the suggestion, sharing a look with a tense Ratchet.

"I'm pretty sure that's not exactly the best of ideas." At the confused looks he was getting from _everyone_, the Head Strategist/Prime sighed, rubbing his nasal bridge to stave off a helmache. "It's an Omega Sentinel. I'm pretty sure Decepticons _should not_ ever be inside an Omega Sentinel."

"If they promise not to touch anything, I won't let him destroy them." The red and blue bot shot a surprised look Ratchet's way, the ambulance grunting with a forced shrug. "The way I see it, kid, the Orion is our only way out of here but the Cons are our only guarantee of surviving wherever the pit we end up. _You_ are the only guarantee we have for our lives and our safety, so I figured if I made things easier for you, then we can all finish this with smooth sailing and no lost limbs. Deal?"

"That's better than anything I could have hoped for, so yes, deal." They shook on it, optics locked, and Optimus wondered what the frag Ratchet saw that suddenly had him releasing all of his tension and relaxing. "Can you and Sari go and fix up the ship while we pack up all of our stuff?"

"Sure," the oldest Autobot present replied, gaze sliding to Sari and then the scared-out-of-his-wits Sumdac. "What are you going to do with him?" He nodded his head in the Professor's direction even as Sari was handed of gently to him.

"Leave him here. Can't exactly bring him along. He'd be dead before we leave the atmosphere." Not only does Optimus not want to have anything to do with him for a second longer, but he doesn't have the _time_ to deal with him for a second longer. The Steelhaven has warp technology installed in it, like any other former Omega Sentinel. Optimus has no doubt that Ultra Magnus has disappeared off straight to the latest battlefield, probably to utilize some strategy or secret weapon against the Decepticons. As Head Strategist, it's Optimus' duty to ensure such a thing never bears any fruit for the Autobots. Besides, despite being the 'handler', let's say, of DJD, he wasn't _cruel_ or _merciless_. If not Megatron himself, Lugnut would tear the human apart, limb by limb, one pound of flesh at a time for using Cybertronian biology to further his own little inventions.

"I don't have issues with either option," came the predictable, scornful response from the gray warmech and Optimus rolled his optics but didn't comment. Sari, though, seems to have realized the implications of what's going on only now.

"Wait, you guys are _leaving_ me here!?" The fluid called tears started welling up in her organic optics. "No! You can't leave me here! You're my only friends! I don't want to lose you!"

"Sari," sighed the Prime a bit sadly, not liking seeing her so upset. "We _have_ to go. Or at least _I_ have to go. The Elite Guard won't hesitate to come back here and try to drag me back to Cybertron - I think some of them are fairly obsessed with me - after 'dealing' with the Decepticons and I can't let that happen. Earth, while I don't really love it all that much, has been a breath of freedom after a thousand stellar cycles of captivity. Staying here would endanger your planet, _you_. The others," he pauses, glancing at the bots who'd been _his_ team for so long. Were they friends? Optimus would like to think so. Again, if only Bumblee learns to be a bit more sensitive towards others but he'll grow out of it. Hopefully. "They can stay or come back. I'm just not sure if _I_ can ever come back. I don't know if I'll even be alive by the end of the day."

"Don't think you can get rid of us _that_ easily, Bossbot!" Bumblebee exclaimed, marching over to Ratchet, who was now giving the taller civilianframe a stubborn look, and Optimus and poking a digit at his chestplates. "We're a team. You can't just _ditch_ us here and say you're done with us! Especially if you're going off on a dangerous adventure! No! You're stuck with us for good."

"Bumblebee's right," the ever gentle Bulkhead piped in, coming closer, eyeing the Decepticons warily but not hesitating. "I mean, what kind of friends would we be to leave you now?"

"We've survived together so far," even Prowl joined in, not even sparing the warframes a glance. "If you're really going into mortal danger, I don't see why you would want to go alone when we can watch your back."

"I'm not a taxi service, kid. If we're taking you anywhere, you can bet we're staying there, too." Optimus couldn't hold back a huge smile at his friends' support, even the grumpy one, but they weren't done.

"Stick me in an astronaut suit and I'm coming with you!" They all looked down to Sari as she dared them silently to deny her. "We aren't just friends, we're _family_. And family doesn't leave anyone behind."

"Oh, for _frag's_ sake," Megatron huffed, probably exasperated. He knows slagged well that the word 'family' is Optimus' weak spot. The mech had the biggest one in the universe but it would seem a few civilians were going to join it now. _That_ will be interesting to explain to Strika.

Optimus just studied his friends, each face showing more determination than the other. He won't be able to talk them out of this. He won't be able to hide who he really _is_ from them. "I'm not going on an adventure," he starts off, making sure they all realized how serious he is being right now. "This isn't like anything any of you have seen before. Well, except maybe Ratchet." He sighed, gathering himself when the medic in question arched an optic ridge at him. "We're going straight to an active battlefield. And while you guys are my friends and _family_, the Decepticons are, too." He doesn't let them comment, prowling on. "If they loose today, I loose with them. If they die, I die, too. And I don't want you to be caught up in that."

"You're not going to die," Megatron interrupted whatever the Autobots were going to say, a hard edge to his voice. "Even if the Decepticons fall today for good, _you_ are _not_ allowed to _die_!" Even his fellow warframes flinched back at the near snarl. Only Optimus remained unflappable. "If we fall, which we _won't_ as we now have our Head Strategist back but even if we do, _you_ go to the Galactic Council and get _justice_ for us. Genocide is against Galactic Law and you'll be a witness. Get justice for us. That's an _order_, Optimus. Maybe the last one I will ever give you, for better or for worse." Optimus didn't know what to say to that, distraught that he wouldn't be allowed to die and join the Well with all those he holds dear to his spark. "And don't worry for your little friends." Both their optics snapped to said group of four Autobots and one organic youngling. "The Decepticons will protect them with their sparks."

"We can fight, too, you know," grumbled Bumblebee under his intake but didn't complain further. The others remained silent, waiting for Optimus' decision. The flamed truck huffed, defeated.

"Okay, _fine_. They can come. _But_," he stressed when Sari and Bumblebee started cheering. "None of you leave the Orion even if I do. And the Orion doesn't engage in battle unless under attack. I'm not dragging you into our war."

"It's _our_ war, too, Optimus," Ratchet pointed out but Optimus shook his helm. The Great War was 'officially' over. These skirmishes are a whole different story, though Ultra Magnus seems ready to go against the Tyrest Accords to finally end it all. He doesn't even know whom he's made an enemy of.

"That's my condition."

"Agreed," Megatron nodded, staring the red and white ambulance down until Ratchet grumpily conceded. Though, he looked relieved that he won't have to fight again. The others were still just glad they were going to be allowed to go.

About two Earth hours later, more cheering was involved when, with the power of the AllSpark and Sari's Key, the Orion took to the atmosphere, Omega Supreme awake and asking quite a few questions about the presence of Decepticons aboard himself. By some miracle, the AllSpark's energy seems to have whipped away all of his pre-set protocols regarding Autobots and Decepticons, apparently much to Ratchet's delight. It would seem Ratchet's been trying to uproot all that coding for quite some time now and was just relieved that it _was _possible since everything he had tried hadn't worked.

They had already left the Earth's atmosphere and were getting ready to warp to the last known location of the Empirion - where there was some huge battle, apparently, if you trust Swindle's accounts - when Optimus found himself standing in front of the AllSpark all on his own. Sari had told him how it had 'communicated' with her through flashing images, but Optimus wasn't sure what he had been expecting when he lay a single blue servo on its casing. It certainly wasn't the fiery pain on his audials' casings, but he remembered it from one thousand stellar cycles ago, that night when he had been assigned the space bridge repair crew. He had always wondered if he had imagined that light bursting out of the Well, especially since, when he checked his casings in a mirror later, he hadn't found anything out of place. Even now, it made no sense, but Optimus had been through several impossible and inexplainable occurrences in just the last fifty stellar cycles and he was ready to accept the unbelievable. If only he could understand what was going on!

The burning stopped almost as soon as he took his servo away, but the AllSpark's casing was open before him now, his strange, old name hovering in front of him like a hologram. The Q glyph at the end still didn't mean anything to him, just frustrating him further, but he once again doesn't get the chance to try to figure it out because Ratchet calls for everyone to come to the command room and strap in. The jump is smooth and they almost don't feel it at all.

The transaction form calm to battle mode is just as smooth as Optimus takes in the flashing lights in front of him as the Autobots and the Decepticons exchanged fire. He didn't pay attention to anyone as he marched right up to the communication consul, all his programs and protocols that he feels most comfortable with already coming online and running parameters and calculations even as he types in comm frequency after comm frequency.

He's in his field now.

This is _home_.


	20. Chapter 20

**Head Strategist**

**Summary: A sparkling discarded by its own people becomes one of the most powerful mechs in the universe, much to the shock of those who had thrown him away. Primus watches out for his children, no matter where they end up. And this discarded sparlking has the power to bring peace to a war that has been raging for eons. He only needs to survive.**

It has been too long since Megatron has had the pleasure of watching Optimus go from an ordinary mech to his Head Strategist in seconds, falling into his element with an ease of a warframe entering battle. He had almost forgotten how incredible it was to witness those beautiful blue optics sharpening, those exquisite dermas drawing into a hard line that will soon be dishing out orders and how Optimus looked when surrounded by reports from the battlefield as he commanded the room and his army. Over a thousand stellar cycles was far too long and part of it was Megatron's own fault, but he had a good reason for staying away in his search for the AllSpark.

In truth, the hunt for the powerful, ancient relic was no more than an excuse to put some distance between himself and his charge, for Optimus had became far too obviously gorgeous for Megatron not to notice and not to be affected. Even while he was still early on in his mechling frame, Megatron had noted his beauty, but Optimus had been too young so the warlord had no problems. When he started growing out of it for his final upgrade, _that's_ where the problems started, for Megatron's sick processor started conjuring up dreams about the bot he had bounced on his knees as a sparkling and that had caused him to be sick with himself. He thought it would pass, but the dreams only became steamier and soon enough, he couldn't stop imagining Optimus in throws of pleasure even during his waking hours. It wasn't helping that Optimus was all Megatron wanted out of a mate. Strong, stubborn, skilled, dedicated, incredibly intelligent, diligent, confident, knew how to protect himself and others while still being a person Megatron would protect with his very own life. The fact that he was breathtakingly beautiful was only a bonus. A bonus that was making his nightly escapades in his recharge fluxes unbearable. He thought distance and multiple different interface partners would be able to distract him, but it didn't matter whom he invited in his berth, he always only saw the purest energon blue optics looking up at him with lust, love and longing.

It was that second emotion that nearly crushed him. _Especially_ when he got the news that Optimus had nearly died while denying Megazarak claim to the Decepticons in single combat. He had come back as soon as he could, panic and pain shooting through his spark when he saw the state Optimus had been in. He had nearly ripped Knock Out apart when the red racer tried to stop him from seeing his little one, stopping only when Hook threatened to sedate him if he didn't calm down. Not that he would have managed, not even with the help of his gestalt brothers. That day, Megatron had been ready to rip apart one of the legendary Titans, let alone Devastator. Still, he had forced himself to a calmed state and vigilantly waited for those beautiful optics he loved so much to open, feeling true calmness only after Hook confirmed Optimus will make a full recovery if he doesn't strain himself. Though their first argument hadn't been easy and he still hated himself for yelling at Optimus, especially when he was berth-ridden from protecting _his_ faction.

The truth behind why he never let Optimus wear his symbol? At first, he was too young and then his neutrality was opening doors for him that no faction-loyal mech would ever get. But the _real_ reason Megatron never let Optimus wear the purple face of Megatronus was because he knew his self-restraint would shatter and he'd claim the young mech as _his_ and he didn't want to scare him away.

Optimus was his _charge_. The _sparkling_ he had taken in as a caretaker! He shouldn't be thinking like this! And yet he could never stop.

It somehow only got worse when Optimus left and got captured by the Autobots on Cybertron. He could never stop thinking about him even as he cruised through space in search for the blasted AllSpark. And then he had been _devastated _when all contact was lost with Optimus, when no one could reach him. The only thing they had known from their spy on Cybertron was that Optimus and those two friends of his were sent to patrol the sector where Archa 7 was and they had feared the worst. And seeing him, alive and well, on an Autobot ship that carried the AllSpark no less, had been impossible to believe. Megatron hadn't believed his optics or other senses - not that the slagging Autobot badge slapped on Optimus' shoulder was helping any - when they said this was his Head Strategist, not until Optimus yelled at him and it all clicked into place.

Dying for him had been the easiest thing he had ever done.

Waking up to see Starscream had nearly managed to kill him was the hardest.

Staying away, a dirty secret in a filthy organic's little lab was torture and humiliation, but he could at least watch over Optimus from afar.

And that first hug, that first _contact_ in over a thousand stellar cycles had felt more heavenly than the Well of AllSparks. He had never wanted to let go, but they had things to do.

And here he was now, finally, after all this time, watching Optimus reaching out to their Command ships, processor already on the battle before them, ready to put on a show. And Megatron just lounged as best as he could in the almost too small command chair, watching, red optics never leaving the firetruck's chassis. He didn't care that there were other bots around. This almost felt like a private show.

"I got in," Optimus announced to no one in particular as he used his access codes to gain control over the comms. "Squadron 21, your east wing is weak. Bring two jets from the middle to fill in. Sector 76, disperse your forces into formation Alpha 3. Companion ships of Victory, assist in the offence at sector 4. I want three heavy hitters in sector 69. Sectors 1 and 90, disperse. Divide forces between squadrons 54 and 45. Linear formation 1 in sector 7. Fall back to the asteroid field in sector 18. Squadron 32, assist in attack on sector 50. Squadron 4, defense of the Kalis' Lament. Squadrons 6 and 16, cut through Autobot battalion 14. Make way to sector 5 for Oil Slick then scatter. Harbinger and Doomsday, miner's run. Accompanying fleet of Fatal Consequence, evasive maneuvers through the asteroid field at sector 9, attack from a distance. Fatal Consequence, cover Harbinger and Doomsday. I want Devastator on the Steelhaven, Bruticus on standby. Seeker armada, to your left."

Megatron grinned when the Autobits just gawked at their little Prime, already used to how some bots reacted to his Head Strategist ability to keep track of a battlefield with such ease. It _could_ be a bit unnerving the first time someone sees it in person, but it's nowhere near unnerving as seeing a three hundred something stellar cycles old mechling almost go toe to toe with Strika, his fearsome General of Destruction and best strategist to that date, in his very first war-sim. You get used to it, after a few times, especially since he's so professional about it. This was the bot that brought the Decepticon army back up from its kneestruts.

"Thank the AllSpark we got to see this again," Starscream, as though reading his mind, said with great relief and Megatron couldn't agree more. The number of consecutive victories Optimus can pile up is staggering. The Autobots had, in a single move, unknowingly incapacitated the Deceoticon army better than had they managed to slaughter half of their numbers. Megatron was determined never to allow for that to happen again.

"Okay, can _someone_ tell me what the frag is going on!?" The annoying yellow one exclaimed, wide optics going from Optimus, to the interface he had opened and then to the Decepticons in a confused need for an explanation. But before anyone could say anything, a loud hailing reached their ship. From the Empirion, no less.

Optimus answered without pause.

::Okay, I don't know _who_ the frag you are, but you have only this _one_ warning to stop messing with our comm frequencies, _Autobot_, before the DJD is sent out to take care of yo-::

"Is that any way to speak to your Head Strategist, Breakdown?" There was a startled yelp from the other end and Optimus' voice very clearly spelled out he was smirking, even though his back was turned to them. Megatron smirked along with him, feeling immensely smug and proud. That was _his_ Optimus. "And the last time _I_ checked, it is _my_ say that is final where the Peaceful Tyranny is concerned."

::Lord Optimus! Please forgive my rudeness, sir! It's good to have you back!:: The grounder warframe quickly backpedaled, respect easily seeping into his voice. Respect, happiness and _relief_. An emotion that will easily be echoed through the Decepticon Empire as soon as the word spreads. And it _will_ spread, faster than wildfire. Warframes can be _such_ gossips sometimes. ::I'll patch you through to General Strika at once.::

"It's good to be back and please do." Not a moment later, the intimidating sight of a disbelieving Strika appeared on their screen, staring wide-opticked at them all. "I know what you're going to say-"

::Two thousand stellar cycles later and you're _still_ undermining my authority!:: Optimus reset his optics before both he and Megatron burst out into laughter, Strika chuckling alongside them. ::It is good to see you back, little one. Lord Megatron.:: There was a slight edge to his designation, which made Megatron sigh. He'll have to explain his fifty stellar cycles of disappearance to her, it would seem. Not something he was looking forward to. ::Get to the Empirion as fast as you can. We could use our Head Strategist.::

"Send me the reports here. We don't have a safe route." Which was true. Omega Supreme was almost completely out of range of the whole battle, let alone the Empirion in the center of the Decepticon troops. Strika glanced briefly at the Autobots and organic mingling with their group and Megatrin waved her away.

"They are not enemies, Strika. And it's not as if we can't stop them even if they try something."

::Fine. But as soon as this is over, you're both coming back.::

"Believe me, I want nothing more." Strika nodded and her image was suddenly replaced with all of the reports, detailed only how warframes can make them, _including_ Autobot status reports that their spy was sending them. "So the Nexus is completely defenseless and ready to transport any Decepticon ship through? That's some spy you put on Cybertron."

"Only the best," Megatron agreed, not moving from his seat. Optimus wouldn't appreciate his interference. He was in his element. The holographic screens of the interface system, the calculations, the statistics, the battle strategies, the logistics ... This is where he belonged and Megatron purred internally at the image of him once again standing on the bridge of the Nemesis and commanding his army at his side. Or, better yet, helping him take down the Council and taking over Cybertron. Now _that_ was a delicious thought.

He'd wasted a thousand and something stellar cycles denying himself what he wants. Optimus was no longer a sparkling and his systems had never registered him as _his_ charge in his spark. In fact, his spark has been designating him as an ideal sparkmate for quite some time now. He won't be denying his spark any longer, as long as Optimus gives consent.

The red and blue flamed Head Strategist nodded, already back to giving out more orders, completely ignoring his flabbergasted friends. "You mean to tell me that _you're_ the mysterious, almost _legendary_ Head Strategist of the Decepticons that continued defeating Autobot forces almost continuously for a _thousand_ stellar cycles!?" Ratchet's screech went unheeded by Optimus, but Megatron gladly answered.

"Two thousand two hundred and sixty stellar cycles ago, Strika, Cyclonus, Blackout and I were the only survivors of the crash of one of our energon transport ships on Archa 7." Interestingly enough, the black and gold cyberninja tensed. Megatron wondered what that was about but brushed it off as he didn't really care. "There, while securing the perimeter before we could leave the planet, Cyclonus and I saved a civilian sparkling in an escape pod from a bunch of giant spiders that live on the planet. We took the sparkling back with us, raised him and then watched him become the greatest strategist the universe has seen." He gave them all an amused, condescending look when all they could do was gape with wide optics. "You w_anted_ to know more about him and there you have it."

"This whole time," the medic breathed barely above a whisper, a hysterical note entering his vocals. "This _whole_ fragging time, I was under the command of the legendary _Head Strategist_!"

"What's the big deal?" The yellow racer asked incredulously, looking between the slowly loosing it ambulance and the proudly smug Decepticons. "I mean, it _sounds_ really cool, but a strategist is a strategist. Right?"

"Not _the_ Head Strategist of the Decepticons, Bumblebee," the two-wheeler corrected, drawing everyone's but Optimus' attention to himself. "I've heard about him. Almost a thousand consecutive victories, almost no notable losses. Under the Head Strategist's command, half of the formerly Decepticon colonies the Autobots managed to snag in the war were returned to the Cons."

"And that's not even mentioning the _Autobot_ colonies the Cons captured since the Head Strategist suddenly appeared around two thousand stellar cycles ago," the medic cut in, staring at Optimus in a new light. Megatron wasn't sure if it was respect out of fear or fear out of respect now. "It would explain the Galactic Council bit. I heard rumors about him bein' a politician, but I've never known which were true and which weren't."

"Yes, Magnificus surely taught him well," Starscream huffed, annoyed. "Though most of us agree that he's wasted in that field. He'd spend his time much better in simply leading the Decepticons, since he has everyone wrapped around his little digit."

"Is it true he's part of DJD?" The big green one, Bulkhead or something, asked, surprising them all. He shrugged at their inquisitive stares. "I heard things about him on the energon farms. Rumors fly around there like crazy."

"Wait, how come _everyone_ knows about this big bad Head Strategist but _I_ don't?" The yellow minibot complained and Ms Sumdac only shrugged. She was far more new to this than he was.

"As if they'd ever teach you about it in the city," huffed Ratchet. "There's no way that propaganda-operated community would _ever_ admit to the Cons having a superior _anything_, let alone a strategist that has managed to not only undo their efforts from the Great War but was also managing to steal key holding points and important mines. There's a noose around Cybertron, Bumblebee, and it's been only getting tighter. Though I guess we now know why it's so much slower these past thousand stellar cycles as opposed to the first thousand."

"Loosing Optimus _has_ impaired our operations a great deal, but Strika is still a fragging good General. She just had to get used to leading the army alone again, especially since both me and Starscream were away." Not the smartest decision on his part, but he had been determined at that point to find the AllSpark. He had been sure it would give them the edge needed to fulfill the hole left behind by Optimus' presumed demise. Turns out it was a good thing he kept pursuing it, because in finding the AllSpark, he had also found Optimus. "Our progress might have slowed down but we are far from defeated."

::Optimus!:: Suddenly, the call pierced through the relatively calm atmosphere as the familiar visage of Shockwave, only in civilianframe colors, appeared on the screen, startling the conversationalists but only getting an arched optic ridge from Optimus. ::I won't waste time on pleasantries. Ultra Magnus has activated protocol Big Bang. There are three dozen ships in the troops your fighting against that are made with quantum engines. The self-destruct sequence of each of the ships takes two breems to activate and if the ships _do_ self-destruct, the explosion will be enough to wipe out half of the Decepticon forces!::

"So you're saying if something _else_ destroys them before they self-destruct, the damage won't be as bad?" Megatron observed, having caught on to that particular detail his Head of Intelligence had stressed.

::Yes, but the problem is that they're not easy to destroy. The field the engines create acts like a very dense energy shield. We'd lose more than half our energo supply just to take down _one_ and it would take far too long.::

Optimus didn't seem particularly impressed or distressed by the information. He just accessed the shared frequency of the army and told them to make way in the squadrons that the ships were positioned, intell they got thanks to Shockwave. And then he dialed a frequency that left the Decepticons and Ratchet chilled down to their very sparks.

_Especially_ when another screen flickered to life to show off a grinning Overlord.

::Lord Optimus,:: the mech all but purred in pleasure and delight. ::It's magnificent to have you back. How may we be of service to you?:: And then he was shoved away with a clawed servo before Tarn, the leader of the Decepticon Justice Division himself, replaced him, giving a respectful nod towards both Head Strategist and the Lord of Decepticons.

::My Lords, your orders?::

Optimus gave the DJD leader a grim smile as he sent ship coordinates and descriptions. "You're up. Code 6." Even _Megatron_ gawked at that order, suddenly feeling a smudge of pity for the Autobots.

There was a cheer behind the hulking purple mech and Tarn just grinned.

::With _pleasure_.::


	21. Chapter 21

**Head Strategist**

**Summary: A sparkling discarded by its own people becomes one of the most powerful mechs in the universe, much to the shock of those who had thrown him away. Primus watches out for his children, no matter where they end up. And this discarded sparlking has the power to bring peace to a war that has been raging for eons. He only needs to survive.**

Using the DJD was never an easy decision. Even when they were 'tame', they were monsters on the battlefield, each and every one of them perfectly capable of destroying smaller or bigger planets or planetoids. Together, not even stars would stand a chance of survival and that's _if_ there was a decent army protecting said celestial bodies.

The Decepticon Justice Division was formed with the sole purpose of hunting down traitors or defectors, in order to keep the Cause strong. Fear was as good a motivator for loyalty as love and respect were and there was _nothing_ more terrifying than the DJD. Rumors traveled far and wide that their ship, the Peaceful Tyranny, was made up of smelted bodies of both Autobots and traitorous Decepticons and no bot in their right processor would want to be on the same ship as those fanatics, so loyal to their Cause that their own sparks mattered less than a speck of dust in their optics if the Cause were to demand them.

Well, _almost_ no bot in their right processor would want to be in the proximity of the Peaceful Tyranny's crew. Optimus, as Megatron had already boasted, had always been the exception. Even the only three bots with the ability to subdue the Phase Sixers - the most powerful members of the Division - were not exactly eager to be in their presence. Even Megatron, whom most of them worshiped the ground he walked on - especially Tarn, the most dangerous one with his voice that can practically control mechs - would rather be in another _galaxy_ than them. Not even the ever apathetic _Cyclonus_ wanted to be near them and he didn't give a slag about anything anymore, almost all of the time. Which was why the DJD were mostly sent off on long, far away hunts for the rare traitors that have been insane enough to turn traitor with the Division looming over them all. And the DJD were all sadistic, every last one of them. They _enjoyed_ torturing their victims and then tearing them apart circuit by circuit.

The exception, both ways, was, of course, Optimus. It's always been Optimus and it will always _stay_ Optimus. Ever since that first day when he had cried over their hidden pain, Optimus was their favorite _everything_ in the world, an opinion that only grew stronger when he not only became the Head Strategist, but also the DJD's 'handler', of sorts, and the _Captain_ of the Peaceful Tyranny. He was the only Captain to carry the title without placing one pede on the ship more often than once a century. And as the DJD's handler, it was ultimately up to Optimus whether the deadliest mecha in the Decepticon Empire will be deployed for missions beyond their usual hunts. Megatron may be of a higher rank than Optimus as the Lord of all Decepticons, the Emperor of Destruction and Supreme Commander of their forces, but Optimus somehow got this duty and responsibility and he had never abused or neglected it. The DJD were very rarely used out on the battlefield and that can't happen without Optimus' permission.

Still, even on the rare occasion the DJD or just the Phase Sixers were used, there was still heavy protocol to go through and their level of involvement was divided and limited by six levels. Code 1-3 was mediocre destruction and meant to leave as many alive as possible for interrogation purposes. Everything above Code 3 but bellow Code 6 meant that the Decepticons should be evacuated as the DJD aren't required to hold back.

Code 6 was a death sentence. No restrictions, no holding back. All in. When Code 6 was in play, death and destruction were the _least_ ugly things to happen.

It was used only in the most _dire_ of circumstances.

Optimus never gave Code 6 easily.

He will not, however, let the Autobots endanger so many of his soldiers just to spare their lives. Code 6 had no guarantee how many Autobots will survive but those three dozen quantum ships were his priority. Many more mechs will die if those self-destruct and the fastest way to destroy them are the DJD. It's never an easy call to make, as so many sparks extinguish in Code 6, but Optimus' priority are his own mecha. The Autobots have no one else but their Magnus to blame.

Code 6 will also ensure a direct path to Cybertron, all the way to its atmosphere. It conquer is at hand and Optimus had already started setting old plans into motion to quickly close the noose around the planet.

Playtime is over.

Still, it was as horrifying as it was fascinating to watch the DJD set out to work, as always. He knows the unthinkable destruction that will follow yet their efficiency is astounding. In a matter of kliks, they cleared themselves a path through the Autobots and started destroying the targeted ships with quantum engines. The civilianframes stood no chance. They were trampled over as though they were mere Earth insects, none of the hulking mechs bothers to so much glance at the carnage they were creating, covered in energon and oil as they gleefully fulfilled their orders. Optimus had to wonder if this was the first time they were let out on the field since their last mission, three hundred stellar cycles before he left for Cybertron. It would explain their rush. They wanted to cause enough mayhem to sate their need for destruction for over a millennium and for the future, as they were right to assume that no one will feel comfortable to let them out again after this for a very long time. Optimus himself personally hoped that they won't be let out because there won't be a _need_ to let them out. He wants this to be the last campaign on Cybertron.

The quantum engine ships exploded as they were torn apart one by one, the self-destruct sequence interrupted and not a single Decepticon had even a scratch on them. Perhaps for the first time in Decepticon history, the DJD were cheered for and Optimus' spark skipped in excitement. For centuries, the DJD only interacted with himself, Megatron, Strika and occasionally Cyclonus, everyone else doing their best to avoid the machines of utter death and destruction. Optimus himself was the only bot who saw that that affected them in certain ways. It made them more volatile and more likely to lash out even against their own fellow Decepticons, but ever since Optimus started regularly hanging out with them every few groons when the Peaceful Tyranny joined the fleet for their report to Megatron, he had noticed an improvement in their behavior. Oh, they will never be like other warframes who can tone it down a notch or a hundred, let alone like civilianframes. They will always be violent and explosive and _very_ dangerous. But treating them as something _other_ than monsters, even if it's only _one_ mech, has apparently helped them not to _see_ themselves as only tools of death and chaos. They haven't mellowed down. They've just discovered there _was_ some strange gentle side of them, even if it only exists when Optimus was around.

The Decepticons - and anyone else - will still fear them, probably always will, but right now? They are not the punishers, they are fellow warriors who have managed to save millions if soldier's lives.

_'This is good,'_ Optimus mused as he slowly started bringing the Decepticons into those final formations that will end this, that will finally end it all. This has been check for a long time and it's finally the right moment for Optimus to put the mate into it. Strika has stuck to his plans and made adjustments spectacularly over the stellar cycles, but now it was time for it all to end. "All troops, formation Alpha-2-5-Omega Champion's Last Stand. I repeat, to all troops. Formation Alpha-2-5-Omega Champion's Last Stand." He watched in satisfaction as the Decepticons moved to comply with an efficiency no other army can achieve, smirking when he looked over to his Autobot friends. They probably thought their military was top notch where discipline was concerned.

Warframes were created for war. Their mere name states the purpose for their designs, for the reason why they had their weapons. They were designed by Primus himself for the purpose of protecting Cybertron and all of its inhabitants, though that role has been long since forgotten, mostly because of the functionist regime under which they were considered useless or tools. Now, they were proving vorns ago forgotten truths and facts about being the mightiest armed force in the universe. The Quintessons couldn't stand up to them, nor any other alien army that had tried to stand up to them. The Autobots won last time only because of their space bridge technology and a fleet of Omega Sentinels.

Now, the only left Omega Sentinel was purified of the code that demanded he sacrifice himself for the Autobots, safe behind Decepticon lines, while a Decepticon spy was safely tucked behind _Autobot_ lines, on an unguarded Space Bridge Nexus, ready to let the Decepticons back home.

The Decepticons were ready. Two thousand stellar cycles of patience, planning and preparing are about to bear fruit.

And it will all start and end with one command from Optimus.

Said red and blue flamed Head Strategist turned to regard the Autobots that had been his crew, his team, his _friends_ for the last thousand and fifty stellar cycles, regarding them in carefully veild curiosity. Two of them had been taught all their lives that the Decepticons were the epitome of evil, that their only purpose in life was to 'destroy the Autobot way of life'. Optimus knows damn well that neither side is faultless or flawless in this war - it takes two to tango, as the humans would say - but he had always been well aware of the Decepticons' dark side. He was _friends_ with it. He was their _ultimate commander_, all things considered. And some of Oil Slick's experiments and the ones Blackarachnia must have executed just to make Blitzwing a tripplechanger couldn't have been called ethical if you were blind. But, like was stated earlier, Optimus grew up with this knowledge. He wasn't fed propaganda against the Autobots and he most certainly wasn't forced to bear the symbol of the Decepticons, despite _wanting_ to. They kept him neutral, which opened doors for him neither badge ever could.

His friends, though ... Well, Ratchet had lived long enough to recognize the electrobullslag the youngsters were being taught and Prowl was more than smart enough to spot it and not believe it. From the few files Optimus had managed to find of him, he'd seen that Prowl had tried running from the system and had ended up being dragged to Yoketron, where the old bot had started teaching him. Question was, had he stayed online long enough, would Yoketron have tried to turn Prowl to the 'Autobot way' or would he have steered him away from the army? It was hard to tell, seeing as Jazz and many other cyberninjas had mostly ended up as Autobots. Could be that it's just because Yoketron's dojo was on Cybertron and only Autobots have had access to it for a very long time now, though Optimus doubted it. Raising little baby cyberninjas - though not literally; sparklings can only learn to fight after hitting double digits; usually, anyway. Optimus was a bit of an exception, starting at only two stellar cycles of age - couldn't be easy _or_ cheap. The credits to keep running the dojo and take care of it and all the students had to come from _somewhere_ and Optimus could only guess how useful cyberninjas would be for the military.

Either way, it was unlikely even Ratchet and Prowl were aware of the true depth of the 'sock drawer' of the Autobots and the dirty secrets that were hidden there. The Decepticons weren't proud of their own but they didn't try to hide it, which is why it was so easy to make monsters and villains out of them. But now that the dark side of the Autobots had some light shed on it, what will his friends do?

::Lord Optimus, formation Alpha-2-5-Omega Champion's Last Stand ready. At your command, sir,:: a communications officer said over the comms. Optimus didn't look away from his friends.

Ratchet huffed. "Well? What are you waiting for? Show us what the infamous Head Strategist can do!"

"Yeah, Bossbot! Let's light this scrap up!" Bumblebee and Sari highfived each other, wanting to see some explosions. Prowl just smiled at him, probably having understood why Optimus even looked at them and Bulkhead commented about the effects probably being a good inspiration for art. Optimus then looked at the Decepticons, at _Megatron_, wondering if he should really take this honor. It was Megatron's movement, his faction, his war. This should be _his_ victory. He and Strika have led the Decepticons for far longer than Optimus has been alive. They had nearly conquered Cybertron had they not run out of resources in the worst moment possible, fighting against two Omega Sentinels at once.

This was Megatron's life's work.

Optimus can't take this away from him.

But Megatron only cocked his helm at him curiously, smile encouraging but optics challenging. _Daring_ him to make that final call, to give the command. "This is _your_ operation, Head Strategist," purred the gray warframe, optics never straying from Optimus' frame and the firetruck had been aware of it from the beginning to now. "_Impress_ _me_."

Optimus frowned at him, at the half patronizing drawl, feeling like he was talked down to, as though he were still that clueless little sparkling riding on those big shoulderstruts. It irked him that, even now, Megatron saw him as a _child_. Well, that just won't do. He'll show him! Optimus had matured even more since the last time he had stood in front of these programs and commanded these troops. Optimus will show him that he was no longer a child, that he was considered Megatron's equal throughout the army, throughout the _galaxy_. He'll show him that he had grown to be a worthy mate or at the very least interface partner, for crying out loud!

But to do that, he first had to conquer Cybertron and this was the first step.

So he turned his attention back to his programs, his calculations and statistics, doing the math one final time because those were _lives_ and not simple dots and numbers. Those mechs out there were his _family_. He will _not_ let them die. So he accessed the comm frequencies of the ships he can see and the bots far away, holding space bridges and waiting to go to Cybertron, to Shockwave and their spy on Cybertron, giving one simple order, one that meant more than the Autobots could ever comprehend. It wasn't just a cry for battle, a call to arms.

It was a call to rebellion, to fight back, to take their freedom.

It was a chant of pride.

"Decepticons, rise up!"

And it was the Autobots' doom.


	22. Chapter 22

**Head Strategist**

**Summary: A sparkling discarded by its own people becomes one of the most powerful mechs in the universe, much to the shock of those who had thrown him away. Primus watches out for his children, no matter where they end up. And this discarded sparlking has the power to bring peace to a war that has been raging for eons. He only needs to survive.**

Megatron would be lying if he said he wasn't turned on by how seamlessly, how elegantly _easily_ Optimus' plans had fallen into place and earned them a victory that will be remembered and written about for millions of generations to come. This operation had been two thousand stellar cycles in the making, mostly lasting that long because the Head Strategist had lost all contact with them for half of that time. Strika had coordinated the attacks on the space bridges wonderfully and watching his Decepticons step onto Cybertron's surface once more had been spectacular. _Especially_ when Trypticon was soon after opened and all its prisoners released, courtesy of Shockwave's brilliant spy network and sleeping agents he had activated.

The Autobots left on the planet stood no chance under such assault, in _every_ city that had a space bridge. The bots and teams to go through had been carefully selected by Optimus a millennium ago, when he had gotten a good look at the Autobot post-war infrastructure, updated by Strika with any new changes in intell they got. Megatron only got vague reports because detailed ones would be miles long and such info exchange would catch the attention of the Autobots' own spy networks, so he only knew the most important bits. The attention to detail his General of Destruction and Head Strategist had paid mind to was outrageous and he was slightly mad they had taken on so much responsibility and work by themselves. Well, Shockwave, too, but Shockwave had his agents to distribute work to. Optimus and Strika had no assistants, working on it by themselves.

He cursed himself internally for not being there to help them out. He was more than a decent strategist himself and yet he had so little to do with this whole operation. He'll also have to look into getting them both assistants. That cyberninja seemed smart and like he might swear loyalty to Optimus if asked. Megatron will have to look into it, but at a later date.

There were more pressing matters to give his attention to.

Like the ceasefire the Autobots had requested not long ago.

Two solar cycles, five joors, twenty breems, six kliks and 43 nanoseconds was all the time it took for Optimus to conquer Cybertron. All the colonies, all the space bridge outposts, both Luna 1 and Luna 2 and all their moon bases, all the Decepticon cities and half the Autobot ones. And, to make things that much more humiliating for the Autobots, half of Iacon was on that list, too. A _half_. Right down the middle. Optimus had sent soldiers and had them take over street after street, one by one, until exactly _half_ of Iacon was under their command, from the Well of AllSparks right up to Fortress Maximus, encompassing the entire Hall of Records and bordering on with the grounds of the Autobot Academy and then he just _stopped_. He made it all the way there with the same ease as the Deceoticon Justice Division had torn through the Autobots to reach the ships with the quantum engines and _stopped_, showing off his power and taunting the Council mechanometers away from them. He made a statement that will have the entire galaxy making a laughing stock of the Autobots fir _centuries_. He _had_ the power, the means to destroy them but he was showing off that same power by _not_ doing it, taunting them just how influential this 'Academy washout' really was. He was showing off his brilliance and making fun of the Council at the same time while claiming territory for the Decepticons ...

Megatron couldn't have been prouder than when they all watched from the Orion how the terrified, shaking Elite Guard mecha _gaped_ when the attack stopped a few pedesteps away just because Optimus didn't _feel_ like it yet to take down the Fortress Maximus.

Ultra Magnus, the Council and the Elite Guard will _never_ live this down.

Of course, the Autobots tried to take advantage of this show of 'arrogance', but they didn't get far when Swindle brought along Nemesis to repay some debt he owed Optimus that neither weapons dealer nor the Head Strategist were keen to discuss. Megatron figured he can always just ... _convince_ Optimus to tell him later ... _After_ he finally gets his servos on that mech who has been driving him _crazy_ for a bit over a million stellar cycles and they celebrate in an ... _appropriate_ fashion this victory. He was getting rather impatient for those celebrations, but maybe they had made too good of a soldier and commander out of Optimus, because he refused to leave his post until the Decepticons _set roots on Cybertron again_. Which Megatron had started fearing would take forever, as another war was bound to happen as soon as they all landed on Cybertron's surface ...

Only for the entirety of their _race_, both Autobot _and_ Decepticon - and the neutrals, rare as they were outside of Caminus - to flounder in shock and confusion and _rage_, in some cases, when the Council raised a white flag and called for a ceasefire. Surprisingly enough, Optimus was the only one not truly surprised. Maybe a bit startled, but definitely not _surprised_ or shocked. It was as though he had _suspected_ something like this to happen last minute, but then Megatron guessed he might have. Maybe it wasn't surprising at all. After all, Optimus had the most unique processor their scientists and medics had ever seen. Half archivist, half warframe. That meant he could process and store _huge_ amounts of data - which he used to memorize _all_ past tactics so he can utilize them if they fit the present situations, which was how they had _started_ his journey to becoming Head Strategist - and that he had a perfect battle processor, meaning he can adapt and plan entire campaigns in a matter of nanoseconds. And not just adapt and process, but Optimus has shown a talent for statistic foresight. With enough data, he can see patterns and guess three most likely things to occur, both short and long term.

There must have been data only he was privy to if he wasn't at all surprised by the Council's decision.

Megatron still didn't like it. The Council was crafty, slick, manipulative, secretive and corrupt to the core. The masses were aware of only three Councilmembers besides the Magnus himself and any protégés he might pick up. The only mech with any sense of decency was Alpha Trion, the Grand Archivist, the representative of the Civilian Guilds, but he was rarely listened to from what Megatron knew. They thought him old and senile especially since he hadn't managed to stop the Elite Guard from chucking the AllSpark through some random space bridge, to be lost without a trail. Then again, maybe things have changed? After all, Alpha Trion _does_ have considerable power over the decisions made, only he usually didn't get involved in those power-plays. He was an ancient mech who had probably seen too much. There was no doubt in Megatron's processor that he was sick of it all.

_'He has probably been waiting for an opportunity like this, when there is no way out, to try and pound some sense into those thick helms of theirs,'_ the warlord mused even as he and his group of representatives exited the little shuttle they had used to come to the meeting on the edges of the Sea of Rust, just outside of Iacon. In the distance, the Well of AllSparks was only just distinguishable from the rest of the terrain. The choice of location had been the Council's, but Optimus had agreed none the less, which meant there was no way they could spring an attack and kill them all. His Head Strategist was too good at his job to conquer a planet and then die before he _officially_ wins the war. The entire universe already knew the outcome. Word spreads fast when people speculate about the return of the Deceoticon Head Strategist. Not that many of them even knew what he looked like or his real name, but he was a bit of a legend.

Lord Megatron of the Decepticons and his Head Strategist ... The universe whispered their names in awe and fear and respect, begrudging or not. Megatron rather liked it, especially the _his_ part, because Optimus _was_ his, or at least _will be_. As soon as he gets out of his Head Strategist helmspace. Megatron can wait for a little while longer to end this and then celebrate with the most beautiful, amazing mech in existence.

The Autobot delegation was already waiting for them and none of them looked happy to be there. Of course, it was made up of Ultra Magnus and his chosen protégé and possible heir, Sentinel Prime, along with five other faces Megatron had fully expected to see, consisting of Chief Justice Tyrest, Councilmember Botanica, Head of Law Halogen, Head of the Autobot Science Division and their leading scientist Perceptor and, standing proud with a huge ... _something_ wrapped and strapped to his back, the Grand Archivist and Leader of the Civilian Guilds, Alpha Trion. There was one more mech standing with their group, wearing a winged Autobot badge as an Elite Guard mech, their Head of Intelligence. Megatron knew this bot, of course. Longarm Prime had quite a _reputation_ as being _extremely_ good at his job.

On the other hand, Megatron had with him, of course, his General of Destruction and Third in Command, Strika, their only decent politician that _wasn't_ otherwise involved in the war, Magnificus, Starscream as his Air Commander and Second in Command, General Scratch, Shockwave will be joining them soon and Tarn, as the leader of the Deceoticon Justice Division. Cyclonus and Blackout were staying in the shuttle, not to get _them_ out, but to protect and save if necessary the last member of their delegation, one which earned himself many wide, confused optics and glares as well as considering looks. After all, it was _Optimus Prime_ \- he for some reason wished to keep the rank, said it sounded nice and Megatron had to agree it had a nice ring to it, made the mech seem more regal than his colors already suggested - the Head Strategist and Lord of Destruction, the heir of the Decepticon Empire, who had conquered Cybertron, agreed to this ceasefire and will be leading this meeting since Megatron _had_ technically given command over to Optimus when he had thought he was going to die and had never bothered to take it back. Otherwise, this whole situation might have taken a whole different turn. Strika found the entire thing far too amusing fir his taste.

The reunion had been, much to the disappointment of all, _very_ brief, though a party was already in the making to properly celebrate not only the return of their Head Strategist and Lord, but also their return _home_ after so long from being gone and not enjoying Primus' light. A few tears have been leaked and more than once was Primus thanked for sending Optimus to them. The Autobots Optimus had claimed as his own were received pretty well, all things considered, especially when no one put up a fight as Lugnut brought out the AllSpark to the roaring cheers of the warframes. There would have already been a party in full swing - with Optimus back, the chances of loss were nearly zero - had this little formality not popped up, which is why they were here now, staring at the other side with as much hate as they can generate and that is _a lot_ coming from a bunch of warframes, _especially_ former gladiators. They have enough reason to hate the elite even _before_ the war that it wasn't even funny.

"_You_!" Spat the idiot amongst the Autobot delegation, glaring daggers at Optimus as though that would be enough to make him disappear. Optimus, a well trained politician, didn't react beyond arching an unimpressed optic ridge at Sentinel. "What are _you_ doing here!?"

"Optimus Prime," Botanica greeted more politely and politically acceptable, a small half smile playing around her dermas, serene-seeming as always. Megatron had never trusted that serenity. "It is ... _quite_ a surprise to see you in present company. I take it you are doing well?"

Optimus hummed, sounding perfectly disinterested. "As you can see, I am _indeed_ much better these days. After a near death experience, I finally feel like myself again. I'm free of the badge you lot slapped on me, I'm back where I belong amongst bots I knew for a very long time in a position I find suits me the most. Nothing like a little death to get rid of the Autobot slag, you know." He even shrugged a little and copied Botanica's smile back at her, making her falter at his words and gestures. They probably weren't used to how impolite Optimus can be when he's pissed off.

"Optimus Prime, why have you betrayed your own people?" Ultra Magnus questioned when no one else seemed to be able to respond properly to the jabs Optimus had dug into them. The Head Strategist stiffened for a microklik at the question, almost unnoticeable save to the people who know him. It was a tell, a very well concealed and controlled one, but a tell none the less, to how much Optimus detested the company of the Magnus. Megatron could understand. He, too, would like nothing more than to never see the white and blue grounder again.

"I have never betrayed my people because my people have _always_ been the Decepticon," the flamed firetruck replied, an edge to his words that had Tarn's battle protocols clicking on almost audibly. He was here more to act as bodyguard than anything else. The only reason the _entirety_ of the DJD wasn't present, as the _whole_ population of warframes would have preferred, was because Optimus hoped to make this into a peace treaty the Autobots will sign as the surrendering side. If the entire DJD were there, the treaty wouldn't be legally acceptable as it can be seen as coercion, threat or blackmail. Optimus wanted this to be clean and swift. "And before you spew any slag about being a part of the Autobot machine, where _were_ the Autobots when, for reasons unknown, I ended up on Archa 7 two thousand two hundred and sixty stellar cycles ago, about to be killed by giant spiders?"

"The Incident of Aracha 7 is all your responsibility, as you have claimed before the Council when asked, so your argument is invalid," Perceptor droned on in his emotionless voice but Optimus persisted.

"Maybe you need a medical checkup, Perceptor, because _two thousand two hundred and sixty stellar cycles ago_, none of you were even aware that I existed," the Head Strategist huffed, looking at them as though they were stupid and Megatron agreed that they _were_. Only ... Alpha Trion ... He was looking at Optimus in a very strange way that Megatron had never seen before and didn't know what to think of. "I was found in a long distance escape pod of Autobot origin by Megatron and Cyclonus, about to be devoured by the creatures that live there. Warframes found me, a _civilianframe_. So where were _you_, my _people_?"

"That's not possible," came a strangled whisper from Tyrest's suddenly glitching vocalizer, the mech taking hurried steps back, _terrified_ optics on Optimus, plating rattling in fear. The Decepticons couldn't help but tilt their helms in confusion. The Chief Justice's reaction made no sense. Unless ... "You _can't_ be!"

Now even Ultra Magnus seemed to have realized, what with the way his grip tightened around the Magnus Hammer. (No one had bothered to act like they weren't all armed to the dermas like a proper ceasefire negotiation meeting would require.)

"But I am," replied Optimus casually, apparently coming to the same conclusion as the Decepticons as to the source of fear. It was, after all, the only _logical_ conclusion. "It must _really_ tick you off. To know that you've had me under your pede for _so long_ but never realized. I mean, I wasn't even trying to be subtle. My battle prowess and my strategic ability would have been a dead giveaway had you bothered to pay attention beyond thinking how good an obedient brilliant little officer like me would make you all look. My rather open views should have tipped you off, or even my very obvious distaste to _be_ amongst you lot. But I guess it just never occurred to you. I mean," he spread his servos in a display of arrogance he didn't really possess. "_Who_ would have thought that you had captured_ the_ Head Strategist without even knowing? You just made yourselves look like glitching fools. You have _no_ idea what the Decepticons would do to get me back."

Optimus paused, however, when they _all_ noticed how the air around the Autobots changed, disbelief somehow piercing through the fear. And then the fear mixed with shock and became amplified.

"WHAT!?"


	23. Chapter 23

**Head Strategist**

**Summary: A sparkling discarded by its own people becomes one of the most powerful mechs in the universe, much to the shock of those who had thrown him away. Primus watches out for his children, no matter where they end up. And this discarded sparlking has the power to bring peace to a war that has been raging for eons. He only needs to survive.**

"You ... _didn't_ figure out that I am the infamous Head Strategist of the Decepticons?" It was rare for Optimus to feel _this_ confused over something, but it's not exactly the first time and it probably won't be the last. Chief Justice Tyrest's reaction would only make sense if he suddenly realized just _whom_ he was dealing with, _especially_ after the treatment Optimus had received from the Autobots. Otherwise, the Prime could see no plausible reason for such a reaction. But the shock to the news about his real identity was genuine, that much he can detect in their EM fields, and it only left him confused all over again. "Then what are you so afraid of?"

"I believe _I_ can find an answer to that question." They all turned towards Alpha Trion as he spoke and boldly stepped forward, cutting in before the news really register and anyone on his side can react in a way that would just prolong the meeting more than absolutely necessary, that strange thing that had been strapped to his back now in his servos, positioned like an offering. The old mech smiled at him kindly, optics as calculating and considering as Optimus had ever seen them when directed at him as the red and purple caped bot carefully unraveled the object.

Optimus couldn't help but stare. It was the most beautiful long sword he had _ever _seen, almost the entire length of his body, made of some white metal that shined like starlight under his gaze. It was a masterpiece of craftsmanship. Any weapon smith would _kill_ to study this sword up close, let alone to say it was their work. And any edged weapons enthusiast would _die_ to hold it. It was simply _breathtaking_, almost out of this world and by that he meant the entire realm of the living, not just Cybertron. The Head Strategist had never seen a weapon like it before and he had seen a _lot_ of weapons. The hilt was elegant with a beautiful apple at the end to act as a counterweight and the guard in the pummel looked as though something else could fit there but its place was no longer there but elsewhere. Optimus couldn't take his optics off of it, his servo itching to trace the blade with his digits, to test its weight in his hand. There was _something_ about the long sword that practically _called_ to him. The feeling was similar to the need to trace the ancient symbols making up his name and the urge was as mysterious as the meaning behind that Q glyph.

"Why don't you try it out?" He looked up at the suggestion, finding Alpha Trion studying him more intensely than ever before, something different shining in his optics. Optimus tried to decipher it as something other than anticipation and hope, but those optics were almost identical to his own and he had seen this look on himself enough times to recognize it. Mostly when he was much younger and couldn't wait to spend some time with only Megatron, before he had realized he never saw the gray mech as 'family', at least not yet and not in that way. It was almost unnerving, if it didn't awake the same feelings in him. It was very weird. "It can be a gift to cement whatever deal we manage to make on this solar cycle," the Grand Archivist said with that same gaze he always directed Optimus' way when they used to cross paths in the Hall of Records. It felt so much more intimate now, as he offered this sword to Optimus.

Maybe it was just his upbringing among warframes to consider the gifting of a weapon intimate, maybe it was getting said weapon from someone who shares his impossible optic color, but this felt a whole other type of _different_ and _intimate_ than anything he had ever experienced before. And maybe he was just overthinking or imagining it that he thought both his and Trion's EM fields to be fluctuating in sync.

"Hey! Who said anything about cementing anything!?" Sentinel, of course, complained, ruining the moment and snapped Optimus out of his musings but was still, also of course, perfectly ignored by the two mechs whose optic color matched each other perfectly, the only pairs of optics with that particular shade of blue. They never broke optic-contact, as though it would all disappear.

Alpha Trion arched a challenging and questioning optic ridge at him.

And Optimus took the sword in servo, raising it out of the metalmesh for everyone to see, marveling at its appearance in the light of Haden. It looked even more otherworldly like that.

Suddenly, the sword started glowing with energon blue light as energy surrounded it and traveled down the hilt, up Optimus' servo, over his plating and through all his wires, pistons and tubes, straight to his sparkchamber. He let out a startled gasp and a servo instinctively reached up to clutch at the windshields that were his chestplates but couldn't seem to release his grip on the sword even as his kneestruts clanged loudly against the metal surface of Cybertron. It felt like raw power was surging through him and his systems were trying to cope to the new experience. It was overwhelming. His processor was shutting everything down to prevent injury. He heard someone calling his designation until suddenly everything turned white.

_When he could see again, he was back in that white, shinning mist that he had assumed to be the Well of AllSparks but he was sure he hadn't died this time. Only this time it seemed a bit different, this place. Optimus looked down at himself and found an almost completely different frame. The color scheme was the same but he seemed to be taller, a bit on the leaner side without as broad shoulders as he had had the last time he had checked his appearance. He felt no configuration for a battlemask and he had a pair of sets of three pointier and taller audials instead of the triangular, singular ones he used to have and he could feel them shift about in tune with his emotions, like the ones he was used to. Which was really odd, but not the craziest thing to have happened to him. He also had more wheels on his pedes and a completely different windshield but decided not to think about the additional gear and instead focused on something seemingly more superficial but he _knew_ was far more important._

_Like the fact that he had engraved silver ancient Cybertronian glyphs, far older than what Cyclonus had taught him, all over his chassis and his audial caps burned as though _something_ was making a mark there. He had no doubts it was another symbol. He wasn't sure why, but he knew with a strut-deep certainty, that was the case. The glyphs appeared to be the same ones that had been engraved in his escape pod spelling his name, only these spelled something else. He looked them over, his ever curious mind instinctively cataloging them into new or already existing files as he deciphered them as though he _knew_ what they were all along. Which made absolutely _no sense_ since this was the first time he was seeing them at all._

'Just something to add to my 'crazy' list,'_ he mused, fingering an audial and barely holding back a startled gasp. Those were _sensitive_, far more so than the ones he was used to. _'Just what the frag is going on here? Why can't I have _one_ seemingly normal day in my function?'_ When there was no answer - he'll be truthful and say he had half expected one since _nothing_ could surprise him at this point - the Prime sighed and started walking, looking around. Like he said, it wasn't quite like the last time he had been in this bright place - or one similar to it. The mist was higher, for one, almost to his hips when in the other place it had been somewhere around his kneestruts. He could only see several mechsnometers in front of him and himself if he looked down, but even his pedes weren't exactly high definition, the mist was _that_ thick. Which made him wonder what else was different, which ended up with him cautiously wandering around, trying to figure out why this was happening._

_The last thing he remembers before ending up here was that he had nearly conquered Cybertron and the Autobot Council had called for a ceasefire in an attempt to not loose even more than they have. Both groups had met on the field near the Well of AllSparks, Optimus had thought his secret identity as the Head Strategist had been figured out and then ... what, exactly? It was a bit fuzzy. _'I think it had something to do with Alpha Trion?'

_"Yes, our brother _does_ have a tendency to cause drama." Optimus nearly jumped out of his plating when the voice appeared out of nowhere, spinning around in search for the source. It wasn't the echoing, booming voice he had grown accustomed to hearing whenever something weird like this happens, but it wasn't exactly small, either. "Fear not, I won't hurt you." The owner of the voice even sounded _offended_ but Optimus didn't exactly feel apologetic, not when his spark was still thundering in its chamber._

_Finally, his optics found what he was searching for and Optimus did a double take. And then another, because he _must_ be glitching. Because if he's _not_, then right before him stood a bot who could be no one else but Megatronus Prime, the Twelfth, the Fallen, the very first warframe in existence with firepower. He loomed over Optimus more than Overlord ever could, thick, overlapping plates creating almost impenetrable armor, made to stand against Unicron himself. Black as space where no stars broke its monotony with only details in a rusting color and silver glyphs like the ones Optimus now bore, energon blue optics gazed at Optimus with a fondness that couldn't be real. Optimus knew, from myth and from the depths of his spark - which was _crazy_, by the way - that he had nothing to fear from the first protector of their race, even if Megatronus was planning on killing him. For as long as his optics didn't turn the red that the Decepticons onlined with, he is not in battle mode._

_"It has been billions of vorns since I last laid optics on you like this, _Optimus_." Said bot frowned, recognizing the different glyphs making up his name. It didn't sound like how anyone else said his name. They used the glyphs meant fir Galactic Standard or Neocybex. Some of the Decepticons accidentally slip into their native city's dialect and change a glyph or two, but it still never sounded like _this_. Any other species wouldn't even notice a difference since the intonation is completely the same but Cybertronians communicate with more than sound at all times. This sounds beyond ancient. "It is ... extremely good to see you."_

_"I'm ... honestly not sure what's going on," the Head Strategist started, opting for honesty instead of trying to trick a Prime. He'd rather not test fate. "One klik I was talking with _Alpha Trion_, and the next I ended up here." He was startled when the Grand Archivist's name slipped from his vocalizer with the same ancient speech pattern as his own name had been said. A speech pattern he had never spoken before _right now_. "Great, this day is getting crazier and crazier by the minute." He muttered under his intake, hoping the Prime won't overhear and take offence._

_"Are you _sure_ that's all you've done?" A completely new voice asked, feminine but powerful, and he whirled around to see none other than the silvery form of the Fourth Prime, the first femme in all her graceful blacksmith glory. Solus was smiling kindly at him, her beauty breathtaking. She, too, had energon blue optics that will burn pink when working with her Forge. Optimus now _knew_ he was going crazy because there were _no_ texts stating that as fact _or_ fiction._

_"It is just your memories returning, in snippets, though, so it make take some time," a new, _old_ sounding voice said and a mech with a beard much like Alpha Trion's appeared, dressed in dark red and golden brown robes of metalmesh that accented his strong frame. Solus and Optimus were of a height but Vector Prime, the Time Keeper and Second of Primus' children was taller than them by two helms. "And here, time is a very relative thing. It has only been a klik where your friends are panicking for your health."_

_"Oh, don't stress him unnecessarily, _Victor_," another voice spoke up and the Head Strategist turned his helm just a little, but he had to look down a bit to see the sky blue form of Micronus Prime, the Fifth of Primus' Creations, the first Minicon, making it just to Optimus' chest in height, jump into the air and started _floating_ there like it was the most normal thing to do. Then again, his domain was the electricity and with it, he can easily create his own field to overcome gravity ... if that even _exists_ here._

_"It doesn't, but we pretend out of boredom." Optimus almost groaned at hearing _another_ new voice, turning around and resetting his optics dumbly at what could only be Quintus Prime, the Tenth, the scientist and explorer. It could only be him given his resemblance to a Cybertronian version of a Quintesson, all green colors, mechanical tentacles and sharp angles, though he still had the same shade of blue optics as the rest of his siblings. He was their creator, as well as the greatest scientist of all time, along with-_

_"And out of habit, so we don't have to readjust every time we have a guest here and have them freaking out on us. Like this, we can just pretend to be normal bots and _not_ some of the first beings to exist in the universe." Yep, there he was. The gray and colorfully detailed Alchemist, the Sixth Prime, the creator of all known elements in the universe, the first to manipulate matter in any way._

_"Though it's not as if we have many guests," another voice said and Optimus could already guess which Prime it belonged to. It was slick, smooth and dripping with poison. When he turned, true enough, the horned dark green, black and gold form of Liege Maximo, the Eleventh Prime, stood there, servos crossed, but no scowl on his faceplate like Optimus had half expected. His gaze, the same as everyone else's, was gentle and reluctant to leave the firetruck's form for even a nanosecond. _

_"A few more closely connected to Primus stumble upon us every now and then." Optimus watched as the both terrifying and magnificently elegant, dark brown and copper form of the first beastformer, Onyx, the Eighth Prime, landed in front of him, peering at him with beastly optics that held nothing but kindness. Amalgamous waved at him from behind the first Predacon._

_"Hi, _Optimus_! Been a long time, bro!" Again with the ancient glyphs in his name!_

_Only something else caught his attention, too._

'Bro? As in _brother_ bro? What the-'

_"Don't overwhelm him, Amalgamous," said the first ever combiner to the first shifter, the Seventh Prime coming to stand next to the Ninth. Optimus only now noticed that only Nexus and Onyx could compete with Megatronus in size and armor mass, even though the wielder of the Requiem Blaster still remains the largest. The Head Strategist couldn't help but study the combiner more closely, well aware that beings like Bruticus and Devastator came to be because Nexus existed at all. "This may already be too much for him."_

_"_Alpha Trion_ wouldn't have sent him to us had he not believed _Optimus_ to be ready to meet us once again." A commanding voice from Megatronus' direction stated and Optimus turned back towards the first warframe, not at all surprised to see Prima, the First of the Primes, the first half warframe half civilianframe in existence, in his full white glory that almost made him _glow_ or indistinguishable from the mist around them had it not been fir his energon blue biolights, standing besides his greatest rival in comfort and ease. The conflict between them in mythology was created by the warring factions, _not_ by them. "It is time."_

_"I do not know what you mean," Optimus said, speaking up for the first time since more than one Prime had appeared. He spoke carefully, not really keen on disrespecting some of the most powerful beings in the universe._

_Prima didn't even bat an eyelash, as the humans would say._

_"It is time for you to rejoin us, brother. It is time for _Optimus Prime_ to return."_

_"What?"_


	24. Chapter 24

**Head Strategist**

**Summary: A sparkling discarded by its own people becomes one of the most powerful mechs in the universe, much to the shock of those who had thrown him away. Primus watches out for his children, no matter where they end up. And this discarded sparlking has the power to bring peace to a war that has been raging for eons. He only needs to survive.**

_"What?" That was all Optimus could utter, almost inaudibly, because the way those two words were said, the way _Optimus Prime_ vibrated through this strange place they currently occupied left him winded like no blow or fall ever could. What scared him, though, was how right it felt._

_And what terrified him even more was the meaning behind the words _finally _clicking in his processor like puzzle pieces. _Optimus_ was not a _name_, not the way his caretakers and everyone else in his life, including himself, had assumed. It is the pronunciation of his _real _name in the oldest of dialects in the universe, the language of the Primes, and it just registers to modern day Cybertronians - and everyone else - as the cluster of sounds that makes up the ancient word they had assumed to be a name. It sounded like nothing they had ever heard before so of course they didn't know there was a _meaning _behind that cluster of sounds and glyphs. A meaning lost to time. _Thirteenth_. The Prime who had no other name than the number under which he was created by Primus because he had never needed more than that._

_And now Optimus was finding out it was him._

_As if that wasn't panic-inducing enough, the Q glyph he had seen by his name in the escape pod also finally made sense. What anyone who only vaguely knows the language of the Primes would see of that glyph was indeed a simple Q. What anyone who actually _knew _and _spoke _it would have read was _Prime_. It was the glyph that represented Primes. Those symbols have been forgotten long before the Era of Primes was over, for not even the remaining Primes themselves had used the glyphs and their birth language upon the creation of the transforming race of Cybertronians from the AllSpark. The ancient language of the first ever generation was based on it and _very_ similar, but that did not mean that it was the same._

_The question still remained, though, had Cyclonus _known_ this whole time and simply withheld that information? Or if the old warrior hadn't known._

'But he's say my name was _Optimus Q_, not just _Optimus_,' _a part of the Head Strategist's processor had enough coherency to point out, getting him thinking even as he was trying not to do the Cybertronian version of human hyperventilation as everything started overwhelming him. You could say it was a very messed up life he was living. _'Or had he really known and chose not to say anything about it? Considering the violent history associated with the titles of Primacy in and since the Golden Age, I wouldn't be surprised if he was just trying to protect me.'_ It would also explain the way Cyclonus had always treated him. The purple horned mech had always been careful, respectful and awfully protective of him. Cyclonus had never _not_ had faith in him that he'll be able to do this or that. He had always known Optimus could master a new skill, now that he thought about it. Cyclonus had obviously known _who_ or _what_ Optimus _really_ was and he had been trying to prepare him for it in his own way._

_Suddenly, his insistence on teaching him about Primus, the Primes and the AllSpark all made sense. That is, if this wasn't just same crazy dream induced by a power overload to his circuits. Either way, it didn't appear to be working because his spark felt like it was going to burst from growing panic as the possibility of his true nature started settling in and being obsessively dissected by his processor._

_"Well, it _should_ have occurred to you by now," Liege Maximo said casually, probably not noticing Optimus' mounting distress. "I mean, last _I_ checked, the AllSpark hadn't been in the Well a good few centuries before Primus finally coughed you back up."_

_"What?" Optimus wasn't sure how his vocalizer hadn't short-circuited by now from all the shocks he was receiving since arriving in this ... place, but either way, that little sound that just came out in result to the Eleventh Prime's words? That did _not_ sound like him at all! Optimus could have sworn he had never produced such a scarred, small, vulnerable sound in his function. And yet here it was, so _pathetic_ he was almost ashamed of himself for making it. _Almost_. Give him some slack, he _was_ going through _actual_ shock right now! How many bots - or people in general - get to find out they are _siblings_ with _actual demigods_!? As far as he knows, he's the only one so at least he has an excuse!_

_"You know, from where you, Micronus and Onyx joined with Primus to create the AllSpark? You guys, Solus and Maximo were the first templates for the Cybertronians functioning today," Quintus explained, sounding as casual as Maximo while utterly shattering Optimus' world around him. The firetruck actually felt his systems starting to shut down not to over-stress to dangerous degrees because of what was happening and how much it was impacting his life and how he perceived the world. His spark was dangerously close to overworking itself and parts of his processor were shutting off to spare him from both a mental and an emotional breakdown._

_"And as the rest of us died, our unique abilities added to the mix and created new types of Cybertronians," Amalgamous quipped, slipping closer in his constantly changing state, smiling at the stunned red and blue mech._

_"Though our memories of our siblings stayed and ensured warframes came about at the same time as civilianframes," Minimus added and Alchemist giggled, fragging _giggled_ like Sari would at Bumblebee's and Bulkhead's antics._

_"Yeah, anything suggesting otherwise is pure propaganda."_

_And Optimus' helm was spinning, trying to cope with all this information. He was utterly failing and wasn't _that_ ironic. He had always prided himself for having such a unique processor that allowed him to work over immense amounts of data and yet this single conversation was _overwhelming_ him like no amount of battle plans, datapads or even the uncensored Grid connection ever could. He must seem so _weak_ to the Primes - his siblings? - just standing there, optics wide and intake gaping like those goldfish humans kept as pets. This was going to drive him _crazy_! It was sensory and data overload, there were too many bots around him, his stress levels were increasing the tension in his pistons, his whole _body_ was starting to lock down and if he doesn't fragging _do_ something to get himself back to control, he might overheat and fry his circuits-_

_"Okay, mechs, _back off_," Solus surprised them all by snapping, coming to stand beside the Head Strategist, who only now realized his plating had started rattling against his protoform. The first femme put a comforting hand between his shoulderstruts on his back as she glared her - _their_ \- siblings into submission. "Give him some space. You're crowding him in and the overload of information you're dumping on him isn't helping any. He needs room to vent so just scatter."_

_"And why do you get to stay with him?" Whined Onyx with a pout. A honest to Primus _pout _on his beastly faceplates. Optimus' could feel his optics starting to glitch. Solus noticed and moved her servo to give his shoulder a comforting squeeze._

_"You're right. _Optimus_ should decide." The femme smiled at him even as they all waited expectantly for an answer from him looking so painfully hopeful Optimus felt bad that most of them will be disappointed when they have to leave. But the prospect of less bots around him is too precious right now to let his own kindness leave him suffering unnecessarily. They were Primes, they'll get over it ... Right?_

_Either way, all of them staying was out of the question if they didn't want the last of Optimus' straining sanity to snap like a rusted wire, so he looked around and carefully thought about whom he wouldn't mind staying. He had a feeling Prima, as the leader and the eldest of the Primes, will stay either way and that in itself was oddly comforting. Optimus knew they were all worried about him but Prima would probably be especially so, since all the legends and stories - which he was still trying to wrap his processor around the fact that they were about _him_ \- said the Thirteenth was very close with the swordsmech. Solus, too, was comforting, more so in the way that her no-nonsense attitude reminded him of how Elita One used to deal with Sentinel, along with that kindness in her optics and the fierceness of her EM field, the latter reminding him of Strika and every other Decepticon femme that had ever been protective of him._

_But the one he knew he would _really_ be comfortable around was probably the one most mecha would never even consider. Call it a side effect of his upbringing, falling back on familiarity or naivety at believing old texts at face value, but it was his choice, so he put his own blue servo over Solus' to hold her there and let her know he wanted her to stay while finally looking, really _looking_ at all the Primes. "I ... I think I'll be most comfortable if it's just Prima, Solus and Megatronus ... At least this time." Because there was _no way_ this was the last time he will be seeing his siblings. He won't allow it to be. They had obviously missed him and even though Optimus didn't really know them at the moment, he had no doubt he'll easily remember how to love them again if he spends some time with them._

_Predictably, they all looked a bit sad at the prospect of not being chosen but accepted his decision either way. With a last lingering look, Optimus found himself alone with his only sister, eldest brother and the very shocked brother that only he was younger than and he found it was suddenly much easier to focus and calm down. He wasn't sure how a spiritual experience can be this exhausting, but he didn't try to figure it out. Nothing really made sense anymore, so why should this? Besides, there were far more important matters to discuss than why this was so tiring. The reason he had chosen these three was because they reminded him the most of what was usual and familiar in his life. Prima could easily pass off as a warframe grounder while Megatronus was practically the inspiration Megatron took to build up his own image and character. And we all know by now just how important Megatron was to Optimus and how safe he made him feel. The first ever warframe was perhaps the most familiar and comforting sight for the Head Strategist right now, even though the color of his optics was all wrong._

_"We take it you have questions, _Optimus_?" Prima stated even though it was kind of posed like a question, for which Optimus was grateful for. "I warn you we may not hold all the answers, little brother."_

_"That's ... fine," the youngest bot present said with a long sigh, gathering himself. "I'll ask and you answer what you can. I couldn't ask for more than that." For some reason, all three looked like they disagreed with that statement but didn't comment, recognizing Optimus needed the short reprieve to steel his nerves for what was to come. He appreciated that and took a deep invent. "What ... happened? How did I ... " He gestured at himself as though that explained it all. "Become me? How was I sparked if the _AllSpark _wasn't in the Well at the time? How did I end up on Archa 7?" Because those were the most important questions, weren't they? _Especially_ if Alpha Trion is _theAlpha Trion_, the Third Prime, the recorder of history, the _Archivist_. Why was Optimus _discarded_ if his elder brother was _right there_ to take him in?_

_"Before the Cybertronian race was created, there was only _us_, the _Primes _and _Primus _and _Unicron_," Prima began, a strange looking chair appearing out of nowhere for him to sit down. Optimus looked around and saw Megatronus casually perched on a huge rock formation and Solus sitting like the lady she was in what resembled a throne. Not really sure what kind of seating arrangement would suit him best or that he would be comfortable with, Optimus just sat on the floor and felt like a sparkling getting a berthtime story all over again. "After the War of the _Primes_, some of our brethren have, as has been mentioned, joined _Primus _in creating the _AllSpark_, one of them being _you_."_

_"But your spark has always been special," Solus cut in, smiling fondly at him. "Too bright and too pure to belong in there, you were so much like Carrier that your spark was naturally attracted to his and you stayed with him instead. That way, when they took the _AllSpark _out of the _Well_, you were still with _Primus _and _not _in the _AllSpark _itself."_

_"We always knew you'll come back one day," Megatronus admitted, picking up the explanation when his elder siblings didn't continue. "_Alpha Trion_ had read it in the _Covenant_ millions of vorns ago. We knew _something_, one day will happen that _Primus_ will let you go, finally, because, one way or another, _you_ will be needed to help Cybertronians get out of a tight spot. _Prima_ and I honestly thought that the wars with the _Quintessons_ would be the time of your return and we fought like we've only ever fought _Unicron_ to drive them away so you can't get hurt, but you never came."_

_"_Trion_ has been waiting for you for so long," Prima said with a nostalgic, melancholy tone to his voice and Optimus wondered how so many amazing mechs could care so much about _him_ of all bots. He had often wondered that even amongst the Decepticons. He had never really thought himself all that special, if he were honest. _Yes_, he was _different_ but that didn't make him something spectacular or anything ... At least he thought so. "I can see why _Primus_ only let you out when he did. _Cybertronians_ didn't need a warrior _Prime_; they needed a _uniter_. But perhaps even Carrier made a mistake. It was already obviously too late."_

_"The warframes and civilianframes have been divided long before the functionist regime," Megatronus snorted, shifting his massive form on the rock he was occupying. His demeanor really did remind Optimus of Megatron, only the Twelfth Prime was much bulkier than the far more modern design Megatron sported. "The Quintessons may as well have started it. Classes and then casts and then the thing your Megatron has started his rebellion against. Warframes have been seen as expendable for far longer than even he is aware of and he had done his research and felt it on his own plating."_

_"They've been using our names and our likeliness to create this divide. It cannot be us that will bridge it," the white Prime continued to his black counterpart's words. "We are warriors. Every _Prime_ has a weapon. Even the _Quill_ and the _Covenant of Primus_ can be used as weapons if utilized correctly." Optimus could just imagine how, too. The Quill can practically rewrite reality and time, _especially_ if used on the Covenant of Primus, which records the very fabric of existence. With just a couple of words, everything can change. Alpha Trion exhibited enormous strength for not falling to the temptation to use it. Then again, a single mistake could destroy everything, so Optimus guessed it made sense._

_Still ... "You're still not telling me how I ended up on Archa 7 or why I was discarded by 'my own people'." He made sure to add the air quotes humans loved so much while layering the sarcasm thickly on to those three last words. There was a reason Optimus doubted he was really these bots' sibling. Autobots were one half of their race but Optimus knows he will never really see them as 'his people'. Maybe due to his upbringing, maybe because of what had happened to him practically upon landing on Cybertron. His distaste for Ultra Magnus and the Council knew no bounds. Still ... Alpha Trion was a part of that same Council and Optimus knew the old bot irritated him at worst, mostly because he had always been such a mystery and Optimus wasn't arrogant enough not to recognize that bothered the more controlling side of himself since he always liked to have everything under control and understandable. Alpha Trion isn't exactly an open book and he has a feeling he'll never really make any real sense, but that doesn't mean Optimus _hates_ him. He had actually been one of the few things on Cybertron that Optimus had found oddly ... comforting during his stay._

_Elita One, too, had been an Autobot. She had been and probably always will be the only bot he had ever considered forming a bond with. He had always wondered what having an Amica Endura would feel like. In a very strange, restricted way, Elita had understood a part of him no one else had. She saw he liked and _needed_ to be surrounded by kind, competent and skilled people and she had done her best to become that so she could earn herself the title of his friend. Optimus will never forgive himself for failing to protect her that day, on Archa 7, and he swore to find a way to make it up to her, to help her. At least now that she was in the Decepticons, he won't have to worry about them technically being enemies anymore. And he's in the perfect position to help her. The Head Strategist was truly second only to Megatron. Strika has been making sure of that by teaching him to lead the army practically on his own with only input and advice from her. Needless to say, Cadet Optimus was never a real thing and Cadet Elita One may have truly offlined that solar cycle, so long ago, but that didn't mean he can't help the femme she had become through her hardships._

_And then there was his team ... Bumblebee will have to mature and let go of his naivety, that was for sure, but Optimus was fond of his crazy antics and his own brand of innocence. Optimus was the most innocent thing their race has seen in centuries, but that was two millennia ago. It was up to him to look out for the young bots now and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't looking forward to teaching Bumblebee all those cool tricks he was so impressed by, as soon as they have some time. Bulkhead, too, was innocent but he hid a secret wisdom deep in his spark. The gentle hulking Autobot was far smarter than he looked but so selfconscious that Optimus had had to restrain himself from trying to teach him some confidence. He didn't want the other to loose that innocence. The Decepticons had taught him well just how precious it was._

_Then there was Ratchet ... He and the medibot had a very surreal relationship, especially considering who Optimus is and on which side Ratchet had fought in the Great War. They were the only war veterans in the group and Ratchet had never known it. To him, until just recently, all Optimus had ever been was a surprisingly mature and skillful punk who he was tasked with practically spying on. Ratchet hadn't asked to get - not that any of them had known that at the time - the Decepticon's Head Strategist as his commander and to have explosive countermeasures installed on his precious ship if Optimus were to remove the spying devices all over the ship. He hadn't asked to be drawn into this crazy mess started by the Autobot Supreme Commander. And yet, as time went by, Optimus was sure the old medic had come to like them all, perhaps him especially. Almost shooting him with his gun fifty stellar cycles ago aside, Optimus had never caused him any trouble or gave him cause to worry. And Ratchet _did_ worry. A lot. He didn't want to lose someone else in his care like it had happened with Intelligence Agent Arcee, who was supposed to be Omega Supreme's mentorbot in the first place. In a way, he understood how Optimus felt when his battle protocols were constantly on high alert as soon as the rest of their team exited the safety of the ship. And Optimus will never forget how worried _all_ of his team was when they thought Lockdown was going to sell him to the 'enemy'._

_Perhaps, for them, he can learn to accept the Autobots as his people, too, though he'd prefer it if factions themselves stopped existing. Their initial formation had been a result and then even the cause of the schism between their people, if that made _any_ sense at all. Civilianframes and warframes are meant to live together. Despite what some bots like to say, Cybertron is more than big enough for both._

'By the _AllSpark_, maybe I _am_ a _Prime_!'_ And he wanted to feel a bit annoyed that even in his thoughts, the glyphs for the most ancient and sacred of words in their specie's language had changed. _'Wait, _are_ they even _my_ species?'_ Primes were kind of a whole other race, as far as their nature goes. They hold powers unlike any Cybertronian has seen since and that's saying something, given the mutations in their code and the resulting abilities that were recorded in Cybertronian history._

_This is going to take some getting used to, _especially_ since it would seem that he _was_, in fact, the _Thirteenth Prime_, the most legendary and mysterious of them all._

_"It has everything to do with those questions, brother," Prima answered, breaking him out of his thoughts. "When you reentered the world of the online, let's say, _Alpha Trion _felt it but he wouldn't be the _only_ one to feel such a shift in power. The entirety of _Cybertron_ shook with your return. Anyone who knows history or our 'legends' even just the tiniest bit knows that your are meant to return, when the time is right. The Council of your time didn't want to see how the entrance of a _Prime_ into the picture will shake things up, so they sent their fastest racers to the _Well_ to get to you faster than _Alpha Trion_."_

_"Not all that hard, given how old he is now," Megatronus said with a derisive snort that everyone ignored._

_"The mechs sent by the Council managed and waited for you to climb out," Prima continued as though the second youngest Prime hadn't said a thing, probably used to it by now with how easily he ignored the comment about age. Optimus had no doubt that Megatronus often threw 'old mech' comments at him, too. The perks of being a younger brother. Optimus had the right to tease them all. _That_ was a privilege he planned on making good use of, if he ever finds other ways to communicate with his siblings other than being dragged ... here, wherever here really was. "_Primus_ tried to protect you when they tried to take you away, but our _Creator_ can't do much. If he shifts, the entirety of the Cybertronian population currently present on his surface plating would perish and everything they've ever made would be destroyed."_

_"_Carrier_ contacted _Alpha Trion_ when they took you and he tried to get to you in time," Solus said softly, smiling sadly at the youngest Prime. "But he was too late. They had already put you in that escape pod and sent you through a random space bridge with no set coordinates. It wasn't outright sparkling murder, they just washed their servos of you. Your fate was left to the stars, in their optics. To fate. _Alpha Trion _was _murderous_ when he found out. And it broke his _spark_."_

"Last time, I was too late. I promised myself I would never be again." _That made so much sense now. But had Alpha Trion known all along who Optimus was? _'No, but he had suspected.'_ That was why he was always looking at Optimus in that strange, calculating way. Optimus had come to Cybertron with an appearance no one else could have, even with meticulous detailing - though he wondered if Alpha Trion had even seen him like that before the Autobots covered his flames with plain paint. He wasn't the same as he had been as the Thirteenth, resembling a modern civilianframe rather than his original, taller self, but the resemblance was enough for Alpha Trion to be suspicious of his origins. The old mech had never seen the sparkling that was his youngest sibling come back. He didn't have a frame reference or anything. And Optimus' energy signature was being messed up by the Autobot badge he had never wanted as well as the color of his optics. He couldn't be sure. Not even when he saw Optimus back to looking how he had since he onlined again in this life. He had to make sure._

_And now, when looking at Prima, Optimus was kicking himself for not recognizing the sword immediately for what it was._

_"But they didn't realize that _fate_," he looked over to the black mech lounging on the rock, his attention once again focusing on his present siblings and not the one still out in the 'real' world. "Will have _nothing_ to do with you and what happens to you. _Primus_ watches out for his children, no matter where we end up. Your survival and safety was paramount. Who better to send you to than to an army of warframes who haven't seen a sparkling in so long it will be more precious to them than pure _energon_?"_

_"Or rather, who better to send to _you_," Solus corrected with an ironic grin on her lip plates. And Optimus was pretty sure he understood._

_He had a feeling Megatron will _not_ like the idea of ancient, dormant gods crashing his ships for their own gain. Even if it resulted in him getting an actual fragging _Prime_ as his Head Strategist. Not that he knew that, still. But it's not like Optimus was going to _hide_ it from him, either._

_"As you shouldn't," Solus surprised him by answering to his thoughts and she winked at him when he gawked at her, only to realize she _hadn't_, in fact, read his mind but rather he had been musing out loud and his siblings were all failing at hiding their amusement. He glared at them but Solus wasn't affected. "_Carrier_ finally let you go so you can unite the people. A _Prime_ sounds like a good mech to listen to when something like that is suggested, no?"_

_"They're not exactly fond of Primes."_

_"Primes, no, but _Primes_?" The femme just shrugged as his exasperated roll of his optics. "Besides, brother will be taking you to get the real _Matrix of Leadership _as soon as you leave this place, so I'm _pretty_ sure they'll listen to you then. Not says divinity like a piece of our _Creator's Spark_ resting in your chest."_

_"Wait, _what_!?"_

_"Which is why we should probably let you get to it." Now even Megatronus was grinning like a fool._

_"No, wait-"_

_But Prima just smiled, walked over and thrust an open fist at Optimus' chestplates_ and he found himself jerking awake in Megatron's servos with both negotiating parties torn between crowding in on him or pointing weapons at each other. Optimus swore he had never seen Ultra Magnus so worried in all the time he had known the mech and it threw he a bit off guard.

"Optimus? Are you alright?" The Decepticon Lord asked when he noticed his firmer charge was awake but the Head Strategist could only reset his optics at him before looking around, searching for a pair of matching color.

The only bot not at all panicked or affected by whatever strange thing had just happened was Alpha Trion, watching him with a carefully constructed neutral expression, despite the way his optics twinkled with happiness and relief. He looked like he was fighting off a grin that would split his faceplates in half. Optimus huffed.

"You're late, brother."


	25. Chapter 25

**Head Strategist**

**Summary: A sparkling discarded by its own people becomes one of the most powerful mechs in the universe, much to the shock of those who had thrown him away. Primus watches out for his children, no matter where they end up. And this discarded sparlking has the power to bring peace to a war that has been raging for eons. He only needs to survive.**

"You're late, brother."

And Alpha Trion couldn't keep the expression neutral anymore, his lip plates tugging into a big, pleased smirk. "You will find it should be _me_ saying that to _you_, little brother."

"Don't 'little brother' me!" And both Autobots and Decepticons could only watch in confusion as Optimus pushed himself to his pedes with the assistance of both Megatron and the beautiful sword he had never let go of. It's glow was more subdued now, but still very obvious and still quite captivating. "Why didn't you do that a thousand and fifty stellar cycles ago!?"

"It wasn't the right time. Your former caretakers current allies were still not able to get to Cybertron," the Grand Archivist replied with a shrug that no one had ever seen him do before and they _gawked_. And then they gawked some more when it _finally_ registered how they were addressing each other and if Cybertronians could go white with fear, the older Councilmembers would at that moment for they _knew_ the implications, or rather the confirmation of Tyrest's fears. "You knowing would only make things even more complicated and dangerous for you."

Optimus squinted suspiciously at Alpha Trion, snorting derisively after a moment. "Oh, please. Just admit that you didn't know for sure instead of going with your cryptic answers. I refuse to deal with them until I remember everything."

"Fair enough," the older of the two nodded, his smirk turning into a smile. "Shall we go get it, then? Because that's the only way to get your memories back."

"I thought it wasn't a short fall," Optimus threw his words back at him when Alpha Trion indicated with his helm towards the nearby Well of AllSparks. The ancient mech snorted again but didn't comment, going straight for the Well, glancing expectantly at the younger Prime. Optimus hesitates, debating whether he _really_ wants to do this as a _Prime_ as opposed to who he was now. He was Optimus _Prime_ alright, but he was also the Head Strategist of the Decepticon Empire and he can't leave them hanging. Not when he's brought them to the brink of victory. Not when he was the one to call this meeting instead of just conquering the entirety of Cybertron and beating the Elite Guard into submission. And most certainly _not_ when Megatron was looking at him like that, like he feared Optimus might disappear at any second, not when he was holding onto him with such open desperation. Despite finding out he has siblings - or once _had_ siblings - just waiting for this moment, it didn't mean Optimus didn't have an whole different family, the entirety of which had been fearing his demise for a thousand stellar cycles. Alpha Trion, for all that he had waited to have this happen for twice as long - in just the time since Optimus' return, mind you; he didn't want to think of the millions of vorns before that - would have known the instant if something were to happen to Optimus, so at least he had always known he was _online_, something the Decepticons couldn't know without some form of communication with him.

The decision was rather easy, when he looked at it like that. Besides, if he went with Alpha Trion _now_ ...

"Not yet," he told his elder brother, turning a dangerous grin to the Council, half of them clearly guilty of having a servo in his ending up on Archa 7. Halogen and Perceptor are the only ones - of the ones who were old enough to have any servo in on this - who didn't look guilty, but Optimus knew damn well Perceptor had practically ripped out his emotional compounds so as to install more logic and learning processors, so he wouldn't put it past him. Halogen looked _horrified_ at the implications of the crimes he as a member of the Council is accused of committing and Optimus notes with pleasure that at least _one_ other Councilmember besides Alpha Trion isn't a total fragger. Then again, all records he had ever found on the Head of Law say that he was only about twenty vorns younger than Cyclonus. He was onlined in a time where Primes were _definitely_ a _lot_ more than a mere military rank. He wonders if it only now sank in who _Alpha Trion_ was, now that the Starsaber was so openly on display and responding to the touch of a Prime. "We have some unfinished business to attend to. I'm not about to leave this mess unresolved. Primus has waited this long, he can wait a bit longer."

Optimus didn't attempt to stop Tarn when he stepped forward threateningly, knowing any Prime will probably have no problem in dealing with the DJD leader, no matter how formidable he was against anyone else. Primes don't exactly fit tbe normal parameters of Cybertronians, after all.

"You insist?" Alpha Trion even sounded a bit pleased by that notion, but, then again, he must despise the mechs who had taken his brother from him after such a long wait and then nearly killed him.

Optimus nodded resolutely, leaning out of Megatron's hold. He took the Starsaber with bith servos and thrust it hard into the ground, the sword easily slicing through Cybertron's incredibly hard metal 'crust' and loosing its glow as Optimus let go, once again unresponsive. Now, if anything were to happen to either Prime, at least no one can even _attempt_ to use the weapon against the other side. "Of course. I can't exactly go preaching about peace as a Prime while threatening my enemies with total conquest, Kaonite arena style on a massive scale, if you know what I mean. I think I'll stay Optimus, the Head Strategist of the Decepticons, for a while longer, just until I secure this ceasefire, before I awaken the _Thirteenth Prime_. I'm not going to be a hypocrite." He enjoyed how the Autobots bristled at his words, smirking, before locking serious optics on his brother. "I don't plan on stop being the Head Strategist. No matter how this goes, I will _always_ be the Decepticon Head Strategist. It's who I am and it's whom I've always been proud to be and will always be proud to be. At least we can thank Megatron for always keeping me a neutral," he says with a smile up at said mech, who was only one of the few to relax at his words while _still_ staring at him in wonder and awe that hadn't been present in the Decepticons since they all got used to Optimus presence, back in his sparkling days. It feels good to shock and surprise them yet again. They'd gotten too used to the tricks Optimus already had up his sleeves. "Unlike _some_ bots."

The Magnus actually looked somewhere between annoyed and chastised. "We had a missing protoform and thought it was you."

"_Still_ not _nearly_ a good enough excuse to brand me without my consent, _especially_ when it became clear how much I hate it. But I guess you'll have to learn to live with my ire." The smile on his dermas had to be extremely sharp. If he was a warframe, he'd have fangs and they would be on full display. "Maybe some of my old opponents can teach you that skill."

Tarn smiled right along with him, showing enough fangs for the both of them. "If you survive long enough to ask them." Oh, yeah. The DJD will _gladly_ remind everyone _who_ their ultimate commander was, _especially_ since Megatron had yet to ask back for his Lord of the Decepticons title back, enjoying far too much how Optimus handled his empire.

The universe knows only an utter _fool_ pisses off the Head Strategist.

What a story, though.A sparkling discarded by its own people becomes one of the most powerful mechs in the universe, much to the shock of those who had thrown him away. But Primus watches out for his children, no matter where they end up or how long they do not return home. And this discarded sparkling now has the power to bring peace to a war that has been raging for eons, the first one with this power since it started. He only needed to survive until such a time when he can end the war. And Optimus had survived. He had done _more_ than surviving, in fact. He had lived and he had prospered and now he had _conquered_. The Autobots had made a grave mistake when discarding him.

_'No,'_ Optimuy reminds himself. _'Not the Autobots. Their only crime is willful obliviousness and blind trust in a system led by corrupt mechs and ruled through propaganda.'_ The _Elite Guard_ will regret discarding him. The _Council_ will regret discarding him, giving that order all those stellar cycles ago.

The Thirteenth Prime might be some saintly uniter of his siblings, meant to do the same for the entire Cybertronian people, but Optimus the Head Strategist was decidedly _not_. Which is why he won't accept his origins until he deals out to the Council what is their due. This war had started in their greed and lust for power. It will end because of a decision made out of the same reasons. The people would have questioned their every move with a true Prime around and they couldn't allow that, as it would lessen their influence and authority. Knowing how Primes were, they no doubt realized the Prime will invite the Decepticons back, too, and make them all equals. Free of charge, so to say. All they've been building for eons would crumble like dust, so they took a sparkling and chucked him through a random space bridge, hoping he'd die. Only Primus altered a few things, crashed a ship and delivered saviors to his youngest creation, ensuring his survival. And so, in one stupid move, the Council had assured that not only will the Prime they feared _invite_ the Decepticons back, he'd _bring_ them back personally.

They'd dug their own grave and now it was time they faced the consequences and lie in it.

Optimus smiled. It wasn't pleasant. "Let's begin."

"Hold it!" Sentinel yelled, making Optimus roll his optics as the blue and orange truck puffed up his chest. "According to galactic law regarding any peace, ceasefire or surrender negotiations, both sides' full High Command or ruling body must be present in order for the negotiations to be valid. If you'd bothered to check, you'd find that Shockwave, your Head of Intelligence, is absent and his last known status is that he's still very much online. Due to his absence, it is clear that you're not taking this seriously and that these negotiations are invalid and will hold no legitimate value before the Galactic Council."

Optimus was actually partially impressed. Only partially. "You _do_ realize that _this_ is a sign of pure good will on our part, right?" He asked, gesturing around them to encompass the situation. "Well, _my_ good will. Everyone else just wanted to keep pounding you into the ground. If you'd _like_ that, then yeah, sure. I can go back to decimating your forces. It'll probably be finished sooner than this would be processed. I'd give it ten solar cycles and that's if I don't get _bored_ of playing with you."

"The law is the law and according to the Tyrest Accords, both the Autobots and the Decepticons have to abate by it unless we want the Galactic Council to come knocking."

"I don't mind. I have hot oil with them once a stellar cycle," Optimus shrugged, making Sentinel growl.

"Where is your Head of Intelligence, General Optimua?" Ultra Magnus asked, trying to stop further useless shenanigans. Optimus gives him a flat look.

"_Lord_ Optimus," he and every Deceoticon present correct, enjoying the optic twitch it caused in the biggest Autobot present. "And I highly doubt you'll like the answer to that."

"I am a patient bot, General Optimus," and said bot rolled his optics at both the words and the refusal to address him by his proper title. Though _Admiral_ would be the most accurate at this point but he still preferred Lord or Head Strategist. That's what he'd always been called. He's sure Ultra Magnus will learn soon. Or maybe not, seeing as Optimus will soon be _Optimus Prime_. "But even I have my limits. You are now on Autobot territory. Your arrogance in assuming you can meet us _here_, on our battlefield with out home advantage, with the same ease as you have in space, will be your undoing. We have resources and numbers on our side on our own home world, which you do not."

Optimus actually worried the other mech had fried his processor. "You _do_ realize that Cybertron's not _Autobotophia_, right? The Decepticons have as much right to it as you do. They are _Cybertronians_. They know Cybertron perhaps better than you do, given that they know what is _underground_, do to how you stuffed them in the mines your dirty work for you. And it's nor _arrogance_, given you've not managed to push back a single front, be it in space or on the ground. I have _half of Iacon_ and I only stopped to _make fun of you_ for the whole universe to see. And the resources and numbers are shuttlescrap! I've seen your status and logistic reports! You won't even _last_ the ten solar cycles I'd play with you."

"That could be a fake report out Intelligence sent your way to lure you into a sense of security. It is illogical to pursue battle with what could be faulty data," Perceptor pointed out in his monotone voice and Optimus didn't have to look back to know Megatron, Strika and Starscream were mirroring the smirk on his own face.

"It's not if it comes from the enemy's own Head of Intelligence," he looked over to the silent Longarm Prime, meeting not the blue optics but the single red light in his forehelm. "Isn't that right, _Shockwave_?"

"Ah, as good an optic as ever, young Optimus," the stretchy bot commented and before everyone's optics, Longarm Prime, the Head of Autobot Intelligence, became Lieutenant Shockwave, the Head of _Decepticon_ Intelligence, easily sidestepping the shocked still Autobots and handed over a datapad to the Decepticon Head Strategist. "It's good to have you back. Though, I must say, I've never expected for the truth of your origins to be _divinity_, but at least the complexity of your processor and your general design specs make sense now."

"Yeah, tell me about it." The Head Strategist smiled as the purple, antlered mech came to stand in his lineup, greeting his comrades with that reserved loyalty, respect and comradeship. He glanced at the datapad and just confirmed a single burst of code and all of Cybertron's current Autobot-programmed defense systems fell offline, which the Magnus got word of kliks later. Optimus just gave him an innocent smile. "Where's _your_ Head of Intelligence?" He looked down at the other numerous files Shockwave had gotten for them and arched an optic ridge when he came across a recruitment sheet he didn't recognize, signed and confirmed with the bot's energy signature, on the basis of becoming Conjux Endura with an active Decepticon agent. A certain sky blue speedster by the designation of Blurr, all sleek and fast and intelligent, just Shockwave's type. Optimus accepted the recruitment with a small smile.

Shockwave sent him a thumbs up.

They both obviously still remembered their old deal. If _Shockwave_ ever fell in love with an enemy, something the purple one-optic bot had sworn he will _never_ do despite them being the only ones with the small, sleek, fast designs he so liked, then Optimus had to confess to Megatron. Trust Shockwave to present his failure at that oath in such a professional manner and trust _him_ to be the only one to remind Optimus of _that_ deal in the middle of a failed ceasefire negotiation meeting.

Alpha Trion looked on in amusement at the exchange, no doubt already well aware of it thanks to the Covenant. Fragger.

"Alright, then," Optimus said pleasantly as he found the file that he presented Ultra Magnus with, stating his surrender and the return of the Decepticons to Cybertron as _well_ as the official dismantling of the Council until further notice. The white and blue mech, as well as all the other Autobots, were still a bit too stupefied by how high and how deep a spy had managed to get.

They should have never held on to Optimus when he obviously hadn't wanted to stay.

They should have never given him access to the Archives.

They should have never made an enemy out of the Head Strategist.

"Please sign."

They should have never discarded him.


	26. Chapter 26

**Head Strategist**

**Summary: A sparkling discarded by its own people becomes one of the most powerful mechs in the universe, much to the shock of those who had thrown him away. Primus watches out for his children, no matter where they end up. And this discarded sparlking has the power to bring peace to a war that has been raging for eons. He only needs to survive.**

_2 stellar cycles later ..._

"How was it?" Optimus didn't even look up from his datapad when his grumpy Conjux Endura came back to their suite, too engrossed in the story he was reading to acknowledge the other's bad mood. It was his own fault for insisting Optimus _not_ accompany him to the Galactic Council meeting with Rodimus Magnus just because he thought the Galactic Council was finally accepting of the Cybertronians as a whole and not just as the people Optimus unfortunately came from. An honest mistake, given how civil things had been since the end of the war, two stellar cycles ago, but Optimus had always been there to mediate.

A trial run without him was bound to be aggravating on both sides so used to the Head Strategist's presence.

The Prime had, at least, enjoyed his lazy morning, sipping on energon, reading all the datapads his spark could desire, chatting with his siblings and Creator and munching on rust sticks.

"I doubt you don't already know," huffed Megatron as he wandered over to where the younger (older?) mech was lounging like a pampered Earth feline, the only thing missing on him to complete the image being expensive jewels and the warlord tiredly sat in front of the Prime's couch, leaning his helm back against his thighs. Optimus practically by instinct now reached over with his free servo to start massaging the kinks out of the gray mech's neck cables, the warframe letting out a pleased grunt as tension started seeping out of his frame. "Rodimus, your little protégé, no doubt called to complain about Minimus Ambus and about the Council and without a single doubt myself."

"Mmhm," Optimus confirmed, trying to repress a smile. Young Hot Rod, a Prime from the former Elite Guard, had taken one look to how Optimus had taken down the previous government, the new divine symbols all over his chassis in silver engravings, all of his records as both an Autobot and the Head Strategist and had decided to rename himself into Rodimus and declare Optimus his mentor. Optimus had tried to get him to reconsider, but that was impossible and after several groons where the orange, yellow and red bot persistently followed him around, Optimus had conceded and took him on as a protégé, much to Strika's amusement and most of the Decepticons' horror. Rodimus wasn't exactly Deceoticon material, but a groon after that, both factions were very much officially dead, so it didn't really matter anymore. Rodimus proved to have great potential and not as closeminded as some of his fellow former Elite Guard mecha and he quickly found some friends amongst the warframe half of their species, learning from them all and earning respect and fondness from both sides until he was nominated for a Magnus candidate and then even _won_ the elections.

Problem was, that put him in Megatron's path, whom he liked to annoy because the warframe took up so much of his still-mentor's time.

"And he and Blackarachnia nearly got in a fight and Magnificus had to practically kick them out before the representatives from the Galactic Council left and never came back and we had a great disadvantage that they _still_ continued arguing outside of the meeting chambers that Minimus had to go out to reign them in. Thank the AllSpark for Jazz and Starscream and that other cyberninja of your's, Prowl, or else it would have been a disaster."

Another interesting development was the relationship evolution between Optimus and Blackarachnia, formerly Elita One. She first saw him moments after he had returned with Alpha Trion upon going into the Well and she had nearly punched him in the faceplates had his elder brother not stopped her at the last klik, raging at him for daring to show his face. It was interesting to watch her reaction when she was informed, rather bluntly by a very displeased Blitzwing, that she could end up on the List for daring to attempt assault on the _Head Strategist_, the second most important and powerful bot in the Decepticon Empire and then Alpha Trion adding on the _Thirteenth Prime_. She had gawked at him for five Earth minutes. He didn't blame her. He didn't blame her for not believing him, either, until he showed her what he had been going into the Well of AllSparks for in the first place. And then things got awkward between them. She didn't know how to treat him and he still didn't know how to treat her. That changed, though, when she heard of Rodimus and the two became somewhat rivals, fighting for Optimus' time and approval. Blackarachnia had become the new Head of the Science Division after Perceptor was demoted when the true volume of his unethical experimentation was revealed in his court trial, which she was really happy about, especially as it put her in the new and revised Council - more like a Court now, really, but whatever - which meant she got to research those freaky spiders from Archa 7 and try to find a cure for herself, as _well_ as it meant that she was pretty much on the same level as Rodimus.

The Court all had a vote and they themselves were voted there by the people. It was equality at its finest. There was a Small Court - consisting of bots that will have meetings with otherworldly politicians, such as Rodimus Magnus, Blackarachnia, Jazz, Magnificus, Alpha Trion, Shockwave, Halogen, Starscream, Cliffjumper, Strika, Minimus Ambus (yes, _the_ brother of Agent 113, DJD member, Dominus Ambus), Megatron, Drift and Optimus - and a Big Court - made up by various representatives of the Civilian Guilds, courts, law enforcement agencies, work inspectors, public speakers, public representatives, reporters, workers, writers, really everyone and anyone from all cities and settlements on Cybertron, in equal measure from both former factions, anyone who turned sides and mechs who never chose one. The Big Court brings the problems before the Small Court and the Small Court is meant to come up with a series of solutions that the Big Court will then vote on. The solution with the most votes is then to be carefully analyzed before it is executed. Both Courts are heavily monitored by none other than Soundwave himself, a mech Megatron and Sari accidentally created on Earth. A cassettedeck, a telepath and an empath, with his team of cassettes, he can easily monitor both groups, their intentions and any attempts at dealing under the table. He can't be bribed, since he's ruled by logic even more than Shockwave, and he can't be threatened, both because of his own partners and because the up-keepers of justice and peace in the system are none other than former Decepticon Justice Division members, which works out for everyone. Soundwave is protected and the former DJD get to intimidate or scare people every now and then and if they ever feel the need for aggression or destruction, they're just sent to demolition sights or someplace where there is a need to break an asteroid field. Needless to say, the system works, _especially_ since the Big Court is made up of people who have felt the consequences of oppression on their own plating.

There's no place for the greedy in the Court.

Prowl, as well as a couple others, were constant representatives of the Big Court. Ratchet, Bulkhead, Cyclonus, Blitzwing and, surprisingly, Swindle and Lockdown, were some of the most often sent to deal with intergalactic issues along with the Small Court. They were all either levelheaded enough, calm or well versed enough in dealing with various other species to be allowed to be present. Ratchet, as the only left mentorbot to an Omega Sentinel, is a special case, especially since he's a medic and not all Court sessions, Big or Small, end peacefully. Sometimes it's old faction grievances, most often it's simply warframes getting too rough with each other. Blurr runs interference, usually putting all involved into stasis cuffs for a time out until the urge to put in some dents into each other passes. Or the occasional intense urge to frag each other, like that one memorable time between Blitzwing and Blackarachnia.

Minimus was a smart bot, knew the law word for word, calm, patient and an excellent negotiator and politician, so Optimus wasn't even surprised he had been at the meeting. He brought a little bit of sanity into the sessions and meetings and it helped that his sheer size - or lack of, as a Minibot - was often enough more than enough to distract Rodimus from his latest row with Blackarachnia or whatever prank he and his new best friend Drift might have thought up.

And Drift was one of the few who have changed sides during the Great War, starting off as the Decepticon Deadlock but going to the Autobots and dropping off of the grid so he can live in peace amongst the civilianframes, a larger grounder with no weapons besides his swords, unnoticed. He was an easy going, surprisingly wise and sunny mech, representing any and all bots who had refused to rejoin the war/skirmishes after the Tyrest Accords and had to go into hiding in order to achieve that. He was incredibly skilled and had insight to both former factions, which helped a great deal. He was usually used to corral Rodimus when the other started acting up, unless he was dragged into it, too, then Primus may help them all because only Optimus can stop them in their tracks then, much to Megatorn's great annoyance.

Megatron had actually managed to get a rather interesting position himself, one which allowed him to - partially - rule Cybertron, like he had wanted for so long. It put warframes into the same and equal position as the civilians, what with one of the most powerful mechs in their entire species being the second most influential member of the Court. He got an old and long since forgotten title, the Lord High Protector, tasked with the safety and military of Cybertron and all of its people. The military didn't consist only of warframes, nor was it obligatory for warframes to be a part of it, but Megatron was their Supreme Commander, especially anything relating to off-world problems. The Magnus still ran the Elite Guard, but they were now the protectors of the Hall of Records, the Primal Basilica, the Academy and Fortress Maximus, no special treatment or privileges in sight. Any bot can join, either the military or the Elite Gurad, and Bumblebee had been the first in line to fulfill his old dream under a new regime. People seemed all the happier for it.

The enforcers weren't under the Elite Guard's jurisdiction anymore, either, something Optimus himself had insisted on, given what had happened to him when he had first arrived on Cybertron. Prowl ran it now with the assistance of Jazz, the two of them even opening Yoketron's old dojo and gathering all remaining cyberninjas to help them train new ones. Jazz also individually ran information channels with Soundwave and Shockwave, a form of a secret intelligence agency that looks out for any domestic or foreign threats to Cybertron's newfound peace. They had a good system going so far.

It was far from perfect and they still had glitches, mostly regarding relations between former colonies, Carminus and the Galactic Council, but that was usually where Optimus stepped in. The Galactic Council genuinely only liked him, since his days as the Head Strategist, and he had Caminus wrapped around his little digit whether he wanted to or not.

As Prime, Optimus got a whole new set of responsibilities that he actually found rather easy to deal with. Even in his earliest days as the Head Strategist of the Decepticons, the red and blue flamed mech had found his routine easy. All those duties have amplified when he became the Prime of all of Cybertron and all of its people, but as he had already said, it was easy. He found it very easy to care for so many people. He was used to it by now. Everyone was a bit wary of the Prime title, like he had guessed they would be, but his siblings were indeed correct in assuming that a _true_ Prime, _especially_ one carrying the _real_ Matrix of Leadership will be easily accepted. Well, as easily accepted as a demi-god could ever be. Though the journey to get the Matrix was an adventure in of itself, mainly because the entirety of the Decepticon army refused to let Optimus out of their sight, the DJD and the High Command especially. And the Autobots had also wanted to go in, too, to observe and make sure it wasn't 'foul play'. In the end, Megatron and Halogen were allowed to join him and Alpha Trion for the better part of the journey down the Well of AllSparks, but they couldn't go further than where Vector Sigma opened for the AllSpark itself. It only let Primes through, so Optimus had taken the AllSpark from Megatron with a bold peck on the cheekplates before rushing in with a highly amused Archivist trailing after him while Halogen gaffed at the gawking warlord in the background. Needless to say, his brother teased him relentlessly until they made it to the entrance to the Core and, to Optimus' surprise, Alpha Trion could follow no further.

_"Only you share Primus' resonance,"_ was what the Third Prime had told the Thirteenth with a fond smile and a step back, watching as Primus' spark chamber opened for Optimus and closed behind him.

Primus had been delighted to have Optimus back and 'pouted' as best as a gigantic Spark can when Optimus was adamant about returning to the surface even _after_ receiving the Matrix. Primus might not have liked it, but the dormant god preferred for them to have a connection than Optimus to get frustrated with him and leave without the Matrix of Leadership. Getting it had been both humbling and painful, inspiring awe and fear, even as it restored his memories from long before the AllSpark came to be. Having your insides refitted wasn't pleasant and his spark hadn't known whether it was delighted or unhappy to merge with the Matrix's crystal. Gaining the knowledge of the Primes was almost overwhelming, despite him being designed for it. Gaining a connection to the Afterspark and Primus himself was a weird experience on its own. He can mute it but he only does it these days when he wants to be intimate with his Conjux Endura, otherwise he's in constant contact with his siblings in the beyond and his Creator down bellow. Though it's a bit terrifying to faintly feel through Primus the other half of that coin, the darkness of the equally dormant Unicron, at the other side of the universe or not, it didn't matter. The awareness of him was there, in the back of his mind and the first few decacycles, Optimus couldn't recharge because of it.

There was also getting used to perceiving his name differently when he spoke to his divine family as opposed to everyone else. His processor now easily registered the difference between the pronunciation of _Thirteen_ and how everyone else had learned to call him Optimus. He preferred to leave his real designation within the family, though Halogen and Cyclonus often referred to him with the proper glyphs, as did most Camians, especially the Mistress if Flame. He liked the name Optimus. It has been his for over two thousand stellar cycles. Two thousand two hundred and sixty two by now. It was the only name he had ever known until he reunited with his siblings and Creator.

His 'adopted' family still at times had trouble registering him as a demi-god, even when he opened his chestplates to show his team from Earth the Matrix because they were always so curious about the relic. Sari especially, as nothing like it existed in Earth mythology or religion. Optimus still found it a little hard to believe himself, at times. There were mornings he would wake from recharge and have to open his chestplates just to see proof that it wasn't all some sort of dream. It appeared just a tad too fantastical. He usually had to have a conversation with someone reasonable and Strika, the new director of the military part of the Academy, would grumble at him for waking her up so early but never turn him away. She liked her new post, cooperating with Optimus, Alpha Trion and various other mechs of both former factions to make a suitable educational system and scrap the old one into oblivion. The Academy was no longer a place for the training of Elite Guard mecha. There was a section for that, but it was also currently the grandest school on Cybertron. Strika was usually enough to ground him when he called her, easily falling back into that mentor-protégé dynamic they had never quite shed.

That is, if he didn't accidentally wake Megatron first.

Their's was a really weird love story, especially on Optimus' part. For about two thousand stellar cycles, he longed to be seen by Megatron as an adult, for him to stop seeing Optimus as the sparkling he had rescued, only to find out Megatron had been using that as an excuse to not see him as a potential partner because his systems had never registered him as an official charge. Probably because Optimus had truly spent most of his youngest days in Cyclonus' company and _they_ half-developed that dynamic. Of course, when Optimus conquered Cybertron for him and gave the Decepticons back their home world, Megatron couldn't hold back his urges any longer. The warlord had confessed he would have taken Optimus to his berth instantly, had Optimus not insisted on the ceasefire negotiations, which had turned into the Council's surrender. The little tease of a kiss cheekplate had been the last straw and as soon as Optimus had climbed out of the Well a new mech, Megatron hadn't even taken in the changes to his frame - cosmetic to the unobservant optic, given that symbols in the language of the Primes littered his frame in beautiful silver - and had simply swept him off his pedes and kissed him senseless before all but kidnapping him to his berth chambers on the Nemesis, Alpha Trion yelling profanities and threats in their wake. Optimus had been too shocked, delighted, dazed and embarrassed to protest, not that he would have.

He was pretty sure that was the fastest formed bond in the history of Cybertron, although it was also the longest dancing around each other, too, if you ignored Megatronus' and Solus' romance in the small eternity before the AllSpark was created. It didn't count, though, so yes, Optimus and Megatron set two world records in one day.

Not everyone liked their relationship, especially the former Autobots since they feared the new Prime will be more sympathetic towards the Decepticons since their leader had his audio respecter. As though that wouldn't be the case either way if Optimus as a Prime hadn't sworn to be neutral in the old grivences between the former factions. He had been raised by warframes. Had he stayed the Head Strategist, he won't deny that it would have been hard not to show obvious favoritism. As it was, he stayed neutral to the point that no one could accuse him of favoring either side. That was the whole point of the Big and Small Court. Optimus' decision might be final, as in he had the right of _veto_, but it was still a voting system. Everyone was heard, no one's voice diminished, everyone had a right to express their opinion as long as it is done in a civilized and polite manner.

It was a far better system so far than any that had been in its place previously. And that was a good start.

Didn't mean they didn't have some hiccups in the road, like the meeting today. Optimus could only sigh as he listened to Megatron rant, rolling his optics at his passing sibling's amused smirk. Alpha Trion quickly made himself scarce when Megatron finally stopped complaining about his fellow Small Court members and just leaned into the Thirteenth Prime's touch with closed optics, a groan of released tension leaving his intake. Sometimes Optimus wondered whether his brother lived in the same giant suite as them only to annoy Megatron, seeing as the warframe had quite an apetite for his smaller lover and Alpha Trion just liked being in the way. Like any other older sibling would, if Sari is to be believed on that account.

"I wish I had listened to you," Megatron conceded, still grumbling. "At least you would have finished the meeting with those stiff fraggers while everyone else argued. _How_ did you make them love you again?"

"Don't know. A gift from Primus, I guess." He smiled at the huff he got for that. Megatron was still sore that _he_ was the younger one in this relationship now that everything has fallen into place. Though he tended to argue such claims on the basis that _he_ had raised _Optimus_ and that Optimus hadn't exactly been aware during the years his spark was accumulating. Optimus would usually then argue that he was born before time itself was an actual thing and that that made him older regardless and they'd go into technicalities and get all of their friends involved until they somehow distracted themselves and turned the debate into banter and forgot all about it until the next time they had it, but it would seem neither of them was in the mood for that.

"Well, you're coming with us tomorrow whether you like it or not. I'm never letting anyone else deal with them ever again," vowed the Lord High Protector and Optimus snorted. He was pretty sure everyone else would agree. Truly only Optimus had the patience for them and the Galactic Council had patience for Optimus only where Cybertronians were concerned. Even the _Quintessons_ liked him, despite learning he was their hated creator's youngest brother. Talk about _awkward_, the first meeting after Optimus accepted his memories back. Thankfully, none of the Quintessons involved in the betrayal and offlining of Quintus were still alive, so the tension had been temporary at best, but the Quintessons had still eyed the Starsaber on Optimus' back with caution and wariness.

"Agreed." They fell into a comfortable silence, just enjoying each other's company and the peace of the moment. It was, after all, only a matter of time before the rest of the Small Court pilled into their living room, no doubt led by Rodimus, to whine at Optimus about the terrible session they'd just had with the representatives of the Galactic Council and ask for him to deal with them pretty much how his sparkmate had done just now. "Do you like how things ended up?" Optimus couldn't help but ask, his thoughts a million miles away, thinking to the solar cycle he had first found out from Megazarak that he had been discarded by the Autobots. Or rather, by the Council. Besides Halogen, who was innocent, and Ultra formerly Magnus, who was exiled, the old Council were all serving a life sentence in the Stocades. Trypticon, at least, had been turned back into Kaon's crown jewel of politics and the Gladiatorial Arena had become a training ground, mostly for warmechs when they needed to blow off some steam. They were too used to fighting to stop completely, especially so suddenly. "Is there anything you regret?"

"Not really," Megatron replied honestly, turning his massive helm to regard Optimus curiously. "I mourn the stellar cycles we've lost and the pain you have suffered. I mourn the sparks wasted on a useless war. But I don't regret my decision to start the rebellion and I don't regret finding you and the life that followed after. You are the best thing that has happened to my Decepticons and I believe you to be the best thing that will ever happen to Cybertronians as a whole and I'm not saying this just because I am biased. You're good for us, Optimus. Better than we deserve."

"Primus certainly seemed to think so, about a thousand stellar cycles ago." He still remembered how the god had urged him, practically _begged_ him to return and leave this world behind. "Alpha Trion persisted." He probably _would_ have returned to Primus, that day at the Well, when he hadn't even been aware of standing so close to the edge, both figuratively and literally.

"I'm glad he did."

"Me too."

Silence fell between them again before Megatron sighed and took Optimus' blue servo into his black one. "I'm not sure ... _what_ I would have done had you disappeared permanently from my life. Even when we thought you offline, we still _hoped_. We had sent Shockwave because we knee he would be able to keep an optic on any communication kept with you, but you never answered any hails by Ultra Magnus."

"If I did, I'd only end up telling him to go frag himself and shutting down the line." They both chuckled at that. Ultra Magnus was far from either of them's favorite bot. They both liked _Swindle_ better when he was at his sleaziest and that was saying something. "I never stopped hoping, you know? That one day, a troop of Decepticons might find me and take me home."

"And yet it is still you who has taken _us_ home, my Head Strategist," Megatron rumbled with amusement and pleasure and Optimus smiled, leaned down and pecked his lip plates just as they heard Rodimus and the rest of the Small Court make it into their apartment, he and Blackarachnia arguing already. Optimus rolled his optics at that. Those two needed to do something about the unresolved sexual tension between them because it was becoming annoying.

"Here we go again." And he just laughed when Megatron groaned in despair at that.

A sparkling discarded by its own people became the most powerful mech in the universe, much to the shock of those who had thrown him away and even those who had found him. Primus watched out for his children, no matter where they end up, even on worlds that would have killed a sparkling on a good day, even to the point of crashing someone's ship to send rescue. And this discarded sparlking, who has been through so much and learned even more,wise and perceptive beyond the age time has accumulated, had and still has the power to bring peace to a war that has been raging for eons. He only needed to survive. And survive he did. And he had succeed. Peace was here and he was loved and surrounded by loved ones. There was still a bumpy road ahead. It won't be easy. It never has been and they were all used to it. Such was their story.

And the story of Optimus Prime, the former Head Strategist who had conquered Cybertron, was only just beginning.

**THE END**


End file.
